


Blood Moon

by Ithiel_Dragon, virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Cheating, Drama, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, Original Character(s), Romance, Sibling Incest, Suicide Attempt, Violence, Werewolf Dean, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-03
Updated: 2009-10-31
Packaged: 2018-09-30 22:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 231,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10173572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiel_Dragon/pseuds/Ithiel_Dragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: Dean has gone missing on a hunt and John Winchester goes to Stanford to get Sam's help finding his brother before it is too late.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story uploaded by Ithiel Dragon. This was a roleplay story I was involved in several years ago on a forum called Devil's Gate. Ithiel Dragon played Dean Winchester, and some other characters. Virtual Personal (as Cas) played Sam Winchester, and some other characters. I am posting this story in its entirety and unedited. The page breaks are where the author changed. Maybe one day I will go back and edit it into a more proper story format, but don't hold your breath. I'm mostly posting this story here so I don't lose it. I still think its a pretty good read the way it is, but it is still obviously a roleplay. You've been warned.

 

 

Fire. Heat. Screams. Sam woke with a start and blinked in dark, trying to bring his heart rate back under control. He moved his hand over, and felt Jesse at his side, still asleep. Good, must mean he hadn't been thrashing around. Would these freakin' nightmares ever leave him?

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and hoped for sleep. Then he heard it, a creaking sound. Listening harder, he heard another creak. That did it, it wasn't his imagination or a left over from his dream.

Quickly hopping out of bed, he pulled the bedroom door shut behind him and padded barefooted down the hall. The moon light streaming through filmy white curtains allowed him to see his way around and he managed to quietly open the hall closet and get a baseball bat.

He felt a breeze where there should be none… open window. Hell, someone was really in here. Scanning the room, he started to walk until he heard the creaking again and pinpointed it to the kitchen.

Calculating in his mind the burglar's entry point and route to the kitchen, Sam went around the other side. Gripping the bat, he waited until a shadow lengthened in front of him, and then he swung.

 

* * *

It was dark and utterly silent in the apartment.

Nothing had stirred when the utter silence was broken by the soft turning of the lock on the window, easily slid open with the point of the knife. The window making not a sound as he opened it and easily slipped inside.

The only light spilling like liquid silver from the moon through the fluttering drapes of the now open window. Cold white light mingling with deep shadows, dancing eerily across every surface. The lacy gauzy material swaying like a ghost's shroud gently in the cool night breeze.

It was late. Well past midnight. There had been no car parked out front, but that meant little when practically everywhere on the campus could be reached by either foot, bike, or by public bus. Even as late as it was, that was no guarantee anyone was home. When even the most disciplined student might take advantage of one of the many parties going on around campus celebrating Halloween.

It was almost too easy getting into the apartment, and the man couldn't help the slight twinge of disappointment that flashed across his shadowed face before he pushed the feeling aside roughly. Making his way through the empty living room, his eyes taking in every detail in the darkness.

There were few knickknacks, or other personal items sitting on shelves or tables, that didn't really surprise him. Though there were a few photos sitting in plain picture frames that he examined a moment before moving on. There was a plain couch and television. A desk sat in one corner of the room, papers and books neatly arranged, and a laptop sitting closed on top of it. Through one door he could see a small but immaculately clean kitchen. Down the opposite hallway he assumed was where the bedrooms and bathroom was.

Deciding to make certain that this part of the house was truly empty before searching the rest, he made his way carefully towards the kitchen. As he thought, it was empty, save for a few unwashed dishes in the sink. Though as he turned to leave, a quickly moving shadow forced him to duck without warning.

John Winchester might be in his late forties, but that didn't mean his reflexes were dulled in the slightest. A good thing. Because if he had moved any slower the swinging baseball bat would have probably taken his head off his shoulders rather than just making a big hole in the wall where he ducked beneath it.

In spite of the slight irritation he felt at the unexpected attack, he couldn't help but feel a flash of pride that his son had still managed to almost sneak up on him even after two years of being a 'civilian'. Unfortunately he didn't really have time to voice that pride, or even offer a proper greeting, as he caught the younger man's arm before Sam could recover. Twisting the younger man's wrist just enough to force him to release his weapon before he could strike again.

"Sam, stop!" John's voice was pitched low in the darkness, but still seemed overly loud because of the previous silence. He knew his son would recognize his voice, however he did not know if that would make the younger man stop fighting, or take another swing at him.

The last time they had seen each other saying they had not parted on the best terms would be a great understatement… But he didn't have time to think, or regret, about that right now. For the same reason he'd broken into his son's apartment, because they didn't have time to have this 'family reunion' in the morning. They barely had time for him to explain why he'd come at all.

Because Dean didn't have time…

"We need to talk, Sam. It's about Dean…"

 

* * *

As the bat fell from his hand, Sam cursed under his breath. Jerking his arm back, he started to strike out with everything he had, but that soft command had the crack of a whip. He’d heard it so often, and learned to stop on a dime.

_Well not this time_ , he decided. He wasn’t under this man’s thumb anymore. He’d fought to get out, and he’d done it… with no help, no support, nothing. Instead of hitting him, he gripped his leather jacket with two hands and dragged him toward a window, where he could see his face even in the dark. He hadn't aged a day and looked as tough as ever, like someone who thought he had all the answers and no one could tell him otherwise, but Sam thought he looked a bit pale... it was probably due to the moonlight.

Just like that, all the memories he’d been trying to forget tumbled back. All the drills, all the training, all the head shaking when he didn’t do things the way his father thought they ought to be done. And Dean, just taking it, like their father was God and knew everything. Dammit, he'd put all that behind him as well as he could.

“Dad? What the hell are you doing here?” Sam’s eyes were unusually hard, his teeth clenching together as he spoke. “What about Dean?” He shook the older man. “If he’s hurt… it’s on you…” Oh, he’d have a lot more to say if Dean was in some hospital, or if this was some sort of trick to get Sam back into the family business. He wouldn’t put that past his dad, he really wouldn’t.

 

* * *

When Sam suddenly grabbed him, and quite literally dragged him over to the window, into the light, it took John Winchester a little by surprise. That was the only reason the younger man got away with it.

Or so, John’s sense of pride told him. Though a part of him, perhaps, still saw his younger son as the young boy that he used to be. Despite the fact that his son had towered over him by a few inches for the last several years, and now had the muscle mass to back up his height advantage.

Now Sam was using that height to try to intimidate his father. His hands still gripping his jacket roughly. His eyes and voice hard as he spoke. And for a moment the older man couldn’t help but think just where had the boy he raised, the boy who had left him, gone and who was this man who had replaced him?

Maybe he was more tired than he thought.

His elder son’s name, not to mention Sam’s incredibly disrespectful tone he never would have gotten away with if he were still living under his roof, snapped John out of his momentarily paralysis and he quickly broke Sam’s hold on him. Effectively shoving his younger son out of his personal space with a scowl, straightening his jacket.

Sam might have been taller, might have even had weight and strength advantage over him, but he had still taught the boy everything he’d known, and Sam still had plenty to learn.

He ignored the jab of pain in his gut when Sam said that if Dean was hurt it was on his head, which was a rather low blow if you asked him. Not that Sam had asked him for anything, especially in the last few years. No, now it was John’s turn to ask something from Sam. If it wasn’t for his elder son’s sake, he never would have come to ask in the first place.

“Dean is missing. I need your help to find him.” The elder man finally said.

 

* * *

There it was… that look of disapproval again. It made Sam so mad he just wanted to order his dad out of his house. Because he could. And because that look had caused so much hurt in the past. _Even now_ , a soft voice whispered in his head, but he wasn’t listening to it.

But the louder voice that filled his head was shouting about his brother having gone missing. Suddenly, everything else paled in importance. His gaze locked with his fathers. “When, how?” he demanded, fingers of fear curling low in his belly. A part of him hoped Dean was in some bar, or enjoying some girl like he always did, but he knew deep down that if it were anything like that, his father wouldn’t be here. “Dad?”

* * *

  


John resisted the urge to sigh, because he’d known this question would be coming sooner or later, and he’d be forced to answer, even if he didn’t want to. Because he didn’t have time for Sam’s anger at him that would no doubt follow. They needed to leave, and they needed to leave now, to save Dean if it wasn’t already too late.

But he needed Sam, he simply couldn’t do this alone, and he needed to convince the younger man to come with him. If that meant suffering his younger son’s wrath first, if Sam agreed to come with him after, then that’s what he would do.

“Six months. He’d been working a hunt alone, and didn’t check in. By the time I got there, there was no trace of him. I got a call yesterday, from one of my contacts, they think they’ve found him. And if what they said was true, then we need to go, now. We only have until the full moon…”

_If Dean isn’t dead already…_ He didn’t say aloud, but he had the feeling he didn’t need to.

 

* * *

"What?!" Sam felt like he'd been sucker punched right in the gut. "Six months… SIX… What the f…" Infuriated, he balled his hands at his sides, clenching and unclenching them as he strove to find words. Then they came. "What the hell were you thinking? Where were you all that time? You let him just go off like that, and you don't even start to look for six months?"

Sam walked away, then turned and stared at his father. "If you say it's a werewolf…" His dad's hard expression had him cursing again. "Dammit dad…"

The wooden floor squeaked behind him, and he turned to see Jess pad in. Her long hair was in her eyes and she was wearing hardly anything, and he'd just bet his father wouldn't approve of that, of her, either. "Hey."

"What's going on?" She asked, leaning to take a look at the man Sam had been talking to. He looked vaguely familiar.

"This is my… _dad_." He gave his father a look that said he sometimes wished otherwise. "This is Jess, my girlfriend. Come," he took her hand and started to pull her away but she tugged her hand back. "Hi. Nice to meet the face in the picture," she said, nodding toward the photograph that Sam kept of his parents.

 

* * *

It was time for John’s eyes to turn hard now, and his jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder that Sam couldn’t hear his teeth creaking together under the strain.

Of _course_ he’d been looking for Dean. He’d been looking for his elder son since the day that Dean hadn’t checked in when he was supposed to. He’d exhausted every favor he had, and then some, to get help from other hunters to track down his son. Practically tearing apart inch by inch the town Dean had last been seen in before he’d disappeared, finally finding the impala abandoned in the woods, the windshield broken, and the drivers seat covered in blood...

The last trace he’d found of his son, and that had been four months ago, but he hadn’t stopped looking. Refusing to believe that Dean was dead, or simply dropped off the face of the earth.

It was only now that he’d received this new information on Dean’s possible location, the first in months, and though he might not have liked what his contact had told him, he wasn’t going to let the chance to get his son back slip away.

Did Sam really think he cared so little about Dean? About him? He had plenty of things to say to Sam’s outburst, many of them unkind, and more than one of them probably enough to convince the younger man _not_ to come with him to save his brother, and that was something John couldn’t risk. No matter how much Sam’s words might have hurt, or angered him. He needed Sam’s help.

He didn’t get the chance to answer at all however, when the soft creak of a floorboard drew both their attention. The first thought to form in his mind, surprisingly, how much this girl looked like Mary. His wife, Sam and Dean’s mother… and he felt an unexpected lump form in his throat. One that only grew larger it seemed when she directed his attention to the photograph the elder man hadn’t noticed until now. Of him and his wife when they’d been younger, before even having Dean. He had no idea that Sam had even kept it.

John sighed softly as he shoved his anger down, at least enough so it wouldn’t show on his face as he politely answered the girl. No matter what Sam might have thought of him, he _was_ capable of being civil.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jess. I’m John.” He said as he stepped closer and held out his hand in greeting. “I apologize for the late visit without notice, but I needed to speak to my son right away. Something of a family emergency…”

 

* * *

She shook his hand and smiled, even as the air around them crackled with tension. Sam hadn’t said much, but she knew his family situation wasn’t ideal. “Would you like some coffee? You can talk in the—“

“Jess, there’s no time. Dean’s missing.” Bet his father wanted to kill him for telling her that, but he wasn’t about to go off in the middle of the night without giving her a reason. A good one. That’s what _normal_ people did... explain things to their girlfriends. They didn’t go disappearing into the night, or for six months for that matter. “I’m gonna change.” Giving her a look and hoping she’d come with him, he left.

_So much for hoping._

“I’m sorry. About Dean,” she said to John, looking worried. “I’ve heard a lot about him. Is... do you think he’s alright?” She wanted to ask what happened, but there was something forbidding in his expression that stopped her.

 

* * *

Despite the situation, John couldn't help but return the girl's warm smile slightly. She seemed like a nice girl. Lack of clothing aside, though he _had_ just woken her from a sound sleep, most likely, with his late arrival, so he could forgive that.

Though unfortunately he didn't have time to accept her offer of coffee, tempting though it was, he frowned at his younger son when Sam didn't even give him a chance to refuse.

He said nothing however, perhaps because from what he gathered that was Sam's 'agreement' to come with him to find his brother. And he would have plenty of time to say what he wanted, about a few things, once they were alone in the truck together. He wasn't going to argue with Sam, especially about family business, in front of his girlfriend.

John nodded slightly, acknowledging her worry, though he was surprised to hear that Sam had apparently talked 'a lot' about his brother. He didn't know why that surprised him. Perhaps, the way Sam had left his family, he simply hadn't expected his younger son would even acknowledge he had one much less speak about them. That was one reason he was so surprised by the photograph. Though Sam's relationship with his brother had always been much better than with his father.

He almost didn't know how to answer the girl's seemingly genuine concern about his elder son, and he felt more than a slight irritation with Sam for saying so much in front of her. But the elder man decided to answer as truthfully as he could.

"Dean has the tendency to get himself into trouble, but I'm sure he'll be fine. Once we find him…"

He could only hope his words were true.

 

* * *

“Good.” Somehow she believed him. Sam had to have his reasons for his estrangement, but that didn’t mean she could ignore the confidence his father exuded.

Hearing sounds from the bedroom, she smiled. “Maybe coffee for the road. He gets cranky when he’s sleepy.” Also, she suddenly realized she had very little on and this being her boyfriend’s father, it made her a bit self-conscious.

Making her way to the electric kettle, she turned it on and grabbed two of their travel cups. It would have to be instant coffee.

Sam walked into the room, and was still shrugging his green jacket. The sight of his father standing there still shocked him. Why was he even surprised? “Jess.” He grabbed his computer bag off a table and turned when she spoke.

“Right here.” She’d made the two coffees, offered the cups to the men. “Sugar’s over here,” she told John.

They headed to the door and Sam nodded for his father to walk down the front stairs and give him a moment. The fact that he had to hint was irritating. The minute the older Winchester left them, he turned to Jess.

“I’ll keep you posted.” Leaning down, he kissed her.

“You do that. You’ll find him,” she said, giving him a smile and squeezing his arm.

She watched as he followed his father and got into a monster of a truck. Maybe this was good, maybe they’d find a way to get close. It would be nice if all three men came back together.

In the car, Sam gave his father the stink-eye. “So what have you found out? Exactly?”

 

* * *

John smiled more genuinely when his son's girlfriend offered to make them coffee for the road, and the reason why.

"Thank you." He replied, nodding again, though he did not follow her into the kitchen area. Instead deciding to wait where he was in the living room for his son to return. It didn't take long for Sam to return, and if possible the younger man looked even less pleased to see him.

Sam didn't speak to him, so neither did he. Though when Jess appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room with offered cups and John took his with another smile and nod.

Usually he took his coffee black, but the added sugar would help keep him awake and alert during the long drive. Not to mention what would come after.

Once they were in the truck together, the tension sparking between them barely kept in check in front of the girl multiplied about ten fold. John ignored the dirty looks his younger son was giving him as he pulled the truck onto the road that would take them to the highway. Heading north.

"Another hunter called me from the Wenatchee forest area in Washington. He said he saw a young man, with Dean's description, while he was working a job up that way. He's going to meet us when we get there, if what he says is true, he's going to need our help as much as we need his." John finally said, giving his son a brief glance before turning his attention back to the road.

"He was hunting a pack of werewolves that had been moving around in that area. He says there are at least a dozen, maybe more. They're the ones who have Dean."

 

* * *

Hearing the numbers, Sam leaned his head back against the headrest and audibly blew out a breath of air. “What the hell are they keeping him for?” Turning his head, he looked at his father. For once, it seemed the man had no answer.

“You think they’re playing some sick games with him? Or they’re gonna eat...” Maybe they were gonna feed their pups. As each dark thought filtered through his mind, Sam felt the urge to shout at his dad to step on it. Only they were already burning up the tires and going as fast as they could.

Needing air, he rolled down the window. What the hell did he remember about werewolves? Not much, other than they were as tough as hell and hard to kill. “Silver... silver works, right? And if he’s not bitten...”

_And if he is bitten_... that was the question that stuck in his throat. If he knew his father, he wouldn’t like the answer. Not one bit.

 

* * *

John found himself again briefly glancing at his younger son at Sam’s soft question, their eyes meeting for a second before the elder Winchester turned his attention back to the road. Stepping on the gas pedal a little harder unconsciously, though he knew he couldn’t drive much faster than he was, even if he wanted to. Since they wouldn’t be any good to Dean if they were arrested, or something, for speeding.

He had no answers for his son. He’d been asking those questions to himself, in fact, almost every second he had heard the news from Jacob. Why were they keeping Dean? What were they doing with him? To him? Had they been holding his son this whole time, or had Dean simply ended up in their hands recently? If it was the former, he had no idea how Dean could have possibly survived his time with them for six months… unless…

John clenched his jaw, and his fingers were clutching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white. He couldn’t think about that possibility. Not now. He just couldn’t…

He nodded slightly to Sam’s more ‘practical’ question. Though a part of him wanted to chastise the younger man for having to ask in the first place. Sam hadn’t been out of the game for _that_ long to have forgotten something so simple…

“Silver. We have plenty of bullets. Aim for the head or the heart. I hope you’ve been practicing.” John found himself saying, even though he knew most likely his younger son hadn’t been keeping up with his training in any way. He’d been so eager to get away from his family, away from hunting. Well, whatever his son had forgotten, he better remember it again really damn quick.

John sighed heavily.

“You should try to get some more sleep. It’s a long drive. We’ll know more once we get there.”

 

* * *

There it was again. That reproachful tone. The subtle hint that if he’d not practiced, then he was a failure. Yeah, like what else was new. He really should shut up, but he couldn’t help himself. “No because normal people don’t go shooting between chemistry and poli sci… they study or maybe catch a game or a movie… but you wouldn’t get that,” he said, practically under his breath. He'd just bet his university tee shirt was pissing his father off too, and possibly that's why he didn't change out of it before leaving the house.

Maybe sleeping was a good idea, then everything his father said couldn’t get him riled. Two years, they hadn’t seen each other for two years, and nothing had changed. Nothing. Sam didn’t even know what he’d expected to change, or what it would be like the first time they met up. Guess it wasn’t something you could prepare for.

Setting his coffee cup into the mug holder, he slid down on the seat. Sleep was unlikely, but he could rest, or pretend. It would make things easier. Unless he started thinking about why Dean was even in this situation. If their dad hadn’t been shoving him in the face of evil all his life, he’d be safe… at home somewhere, and not in a den of werewolves. God… only a Winchester could think that word without laughing.

 

* * *

Those soft muttered words were the proverbial straws that broke the horse’s back. John Winchester had held his tongue through his son’s acid dripping remarks the entire time he’d been in his son’s home. He’d taken his disrespectful attitude in front of his girlfriend without so much as a lifted eyebrow in reply. Keeping his growing temper in check through force of will as it was stretched to the limit. But now they were here, alone together, and he sure as _hell_ was not going to take it from his _son_ any longer.

John slammed on the brakes so hard the tires shrieked like a banshee’s wail in protest. Throwing him roughly forward in his seatbelt, even as he yanked the wheel angrily to the side, pulling them off the road and onto the shoulder, followed by a small chorus of angry honking horns from other cars still traveling the roads this late.

The elder man wasted no time once they were stopped, reaching over, grabbing his son by the front of his t-shirt just as roughly as the boy had grabbed _him_ earlier, and yanking him closer. Making sure the younger man saw his thunderous expression even in the nearly pitch black of the truck, lit only by another car’s headlights briefly every time one passed.

“Are we _really_ going to start up this old argument _now_ of all times, Sam! Fine. You hate me. You despise everything about me, and my life. Our life. You’ve made it clear. So, now that you’ve got it out of your system, are you going to start acting like my _son_ or do you really want to keep wasting time on this when your _brother_ is suffering god knows what with a pack of werewolves!”

The elder man spat out, his voice practically shaking with rage. There weren’t many times he’d yelled like this at his son’s. He wasn’t a violent man, despite the life they’d lived. He didn’t discipline his boys by screaming at them or, god forbid, beating them. But the few times he did yell, it was either when one of his boys had made a stupid mistake on a hunt that could have gotten them killed... or like now. When Sam managed to push his buttons in just the right way, something his younger son excelled at so much it was practically an art form.

“I asked you a perfectly legitimate question! Whether or not you were going to actually be useful with a gun when I need you, or not, and if the answer is _not_ then you might as well just get out of the truck right the fuck now and walk back to your fucking apple pie normal life. Because I need a _hunter_ with me right now, not a spoiled brat college boy!”

 

* * *

One minute he’d been preparing to rest up, the next, he thought they were in an accident. Before there was time for his heart to stop knocking against his chest, he found himself hauled up and in his father’s face. His father’s very angry face.

Almost as if in self preservation, Sam gripped his father’s wrists, trying to prevent him from pulling him any closer. His nostril’s flared as the fury in his eyes matched and clashed with his father’s.

His chest rose and fell. Words tumbled through his mind, aching... fighting to get out, to call John Winchester out on all his shortcomings. He held them back, all of them, because if there was one truth, it was that if anyone could get Dean back, it was their father. Second truth... Sam wanted to be there. All those times Dean had been there for him, all the times he'd gotten him out of bad situations... well it was his turn now. He couldn't lose his brother, and he needed to be there for Dean. Risking getting left on the road wasn’t the way to go about it.

Forcing himself to calm down, he finally answered. “Yes sir, I’m a hunter... and I know how to shoot. I’m going in there with you, and I’m getting my brother out. Nothing’s gonna stop me. I won’t let it.” And that included his father.

 

* * *

The elder man couldn’t say he was ‘happy’ with his son’s reply, but at least he was satisfied by it. Enough to let go of the younger man and sit back in the driver’s seat with a curt, “Good.” And nothing more.

Checking the lanes in the rearview mirror before pulling the truck back onto the highway. Stepping on the gas perhaps a little harder than he needed to, partly from frustration, and partly to make up the time they’d just lost with their brief ‘stop’.

_Nice going, Winchester._ A bitter voice whispered in his thoughts, and John sighed heavily. As though there wasn’t already a rift between him and his younger son the size of the Grand Canyon, he had to go and rip it even wider.

But that was always the way it had been between them, hadn’t it? At least, ever since before Sam had hit puberty. Sam would question him. Argue with him. He would get frustrated, then angry, and his volume would rise. Sam matching him step for step until they were screaming at each other. Then there would be nothing said between them for days, sometimes weeks, until Dean finally managed to smooth both of their ruffled feathers enough they could be civil with each other again.

Only Dean wasn’t here this time, and they couldn’t afford to be at each others throats this time. Not when Dean’s life depended on the two of them being able to cooperate effectively together.

John sighed again.

“Jess seems like a nice girl. I’m glad I got the chance to meet her.” He finally said softly after a long time. Hoping his son would take his words at face value as the peace offering they were.

 

* * *

Sam automatically pulled his bunched up shirt straight and sat back. Some things never changed, and this was definitely one of them. Their ability to piss each other off and get into shouting matches that sometimes got physical… guess it wasn’t something that was gonna go away.

Course there was also their ability to sit and fume in silence. It was something they both had a lot of practice in.

Then there was the guilt. At least on his end. He’d sit there and replay the conversation in his mind, trying to figure out if he’d said something wrong, and even if he hadn’t… why did Dean’s voice always boom loudly in his head? _He’s your father_ , that was always Dean’s answer to everything, his answer to why he thought Sam should just take whatever dad dished out.

He was surprised as hell, not only that another word passed through his father’s mouth before they got to their destination, but that he’d brought up Jessica. Turning his head, he scrutinized his father’s face, looking for signs of sarcasm or a double meaning in there. A hint that what he really meant was that girlfriends were not meant for the likes of us.

Finding none, but still unsure, he answered. “Yeah. She really is. I got lucky.” He licked his lips, undecided on whether he was glad his father had met her or not. Well, he hadn’t embarrassed him or ordered him around in front of her, there was at least that. “She doesn’t know. About any of _this…”_ This life, he was trying so freakin’ hard to leave behind.

 

* * *

John nodded carefully. Feeling almost as though he were walking on eggshells… or perhaps more accurately, trying to across a minefield without a map. Where any wrong step could almost literally blow up in his face.

Why was it so difficult just to talk to his son?

It was not as though he’d _never_ just sat down and just talked with his son. But those times were so few and far between he barely remembered them, and for some reason those times always felt more awkward than when they were screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. He didn’t know why.

He supposed it was normal to feel a little awkward now, however. Considering they hadn’t spoken to each other literally in years, and these few words were the most civil to pass between them even longer than that.

“Probably a good idea.” The elder man finally said. Though he might not have agreed with it personally. After all, knowing what was out there was better than being clueless.

If he had known the truth all those years ago, maybe, just maybe, Mary would still be alive… but in the end it was Sam’s decision whether or not to tell her. Most people, ‘normal’ people, as Sam dubbed them, couldn’t or simply wouldn’t believe what was really out there. At least not until the truth literally reared up and slapped them in the face.

There were other things John wanted to ask. Such as, if it was really serious between Sam and his girlfriend? It certainly seemed serious since they were living together. He wanted to ask how Sam had been? How was he doing in school? Was he happy? But all of that suddenly seemed far too… personal… when the truth was they were little better than strangers.

“You should get some sleep.” John finally repeated tiredly. Taking a sip from his coffee that was still warm at least thanks to the travel mugs. The elder man settled in for what would most likely be a silent fifteen hour drive.

 

* * *

So that was it. The extent of his father’s interest in his life, and in his girlfriend. No, that wasn’t disappointment balling up in his chest. It couldn’t be because he hadn’t expected anything different. Mouth flattening into a thin line, he nodded. “You’re right.”

Putting one arm behind his head and turning sideways toward the passenger window, Sam stared outside for a while. For hours they went past suburbs and city limits. He mentally read exit signs for a while until he finally dropped off to sleep. Oddly, he fell into a very deep and dreamless sleep. All the voices in his head quieted, the anger in him stilled, and even the worry about his brother that was constantly smoldering beneath the surface dissipated.

*  
Sam woke and was a bit disoriented. Sitting up suddenly, he looked around from inside the truck. They’d made a stop at a gas station somewhere in the boonies. Yawning, he looked at his watch and opened his door just as his father was coming back from paying for gas, he guessed. The steaming cups of coffee in his hands were a welcome sight.

“Mornin’” he mumbled, searching his father’s face. It was so weird, just seeing him. “Any news?” He put his hand out for the keys, “I’ll drive, so you can rest.”

 

* * *

John Winchester pulled the truck off the highway into a little run down gas station a couple of hours after dawn. Though he really didn’t want to make a stop at all, they weren’t going to be going anywhere without gas. Not to mention he wasn’t going to be able to drive for much longer without more caffeine. He’d been up almost thirty six hours already, and though he’d gone a lot longer without sleep before, he wasn’t as young as he used to be.

Not that he was going to be admitting that aloud any time soon.

He left his son sleeping in the cab of the truck, knowing Sam had only just fallen asleep a few hours ago and not wanting to wake him so soon, while he filled it up and then went to pay for the gas and get them coffee. While waiting in line, he made a call to Jacobs. Frowning when the call went straight to voicemail. He left a quick message, asking the other hunter to call him back as soon as possible, then he left the small convenience store. Not all that surprised to see Sam awake and waiting for him.

“Morning.” The elder man replied as he handed his son the steaming Styrofoam cup, taking a grateful sip of his own, then raising an eyebrow as the younger man asked for the keys to the truck. He hesitated only for a moment before handing them over and then answering his son’s other question.

“Nothing new. We should reach Wenatchee in another six hours or so.”

 

* * *

Sam gave a lopsided grin as his hand closed around the keys. You’d think his dad had just relinquished his throne or something. Yeah, that was something dad and Dean had in common, their love of cars, and the driver’s seat.

“No news is good news, right?” Okay, he’d said it because the alternative was just too horrible to think about. In the morning light, his father looked tired and strained. Suddenly, Sam felt bad about telling him anything that happened to Dean was his fault. “We’ll find him. You know… he’s hard to kill,” he said, patting the older man on the back. “We’ll get him.”

He walked around to the driver’s side, and hopped in. Fixing the mirrors and letting the seat go back a little to accommodate his legs, he looked at his father, before he started up and made a U-turn back onto the highway.

A question was plaguing his mind. If his dad were asleep, he wouldn’t have asked, but the elder Winchester was still drinking his coffee. Sam opened his mouth, shut it, then tried again. “What if… what if they’ve turned him. Is there… is there a cure?” No, nothing like that had happened to Dean. This was a just in case, cause that’s how Sam’s mind worked. Back up plans. What ifs…

 

* * *

John found he had no reply to Sam’s observation that ‘no’ news was good news. In fact, in their line of work, usually the opposite was true. But he couldn’t think about that right now. Not without going completely mad with worry.

Loosing his boys… something happening to either of them, had always been his greatest fear. So much so he barely acknowledged it, because it was simply unthinkable. For six months he hadn’t known whether his eldest son was alive or dead… Now that he had finally been given hope that his boy was alive, he clung to it desperately.

He had to believe that Jacobs had simply turned his phone off for a good reason, and would call him back within an hour or two with news on his son. He had to believe that Dean was alive now, and would still be alive, when they found him. When they rescued him. They _would_ rescue him.

So the elder man simply nodded to his younger son’s reassurances as he climbed into the passenger side of the truck. Refusing to believe anything else. Even though a part of him knew it should be him reassuring his son, and not the other way around.

He could practically hear the wheels in Sam’s head turning in the silence as his son pulled the truck back onto the highway, but he still wasn’t quite prepared for the question when it was asked. Or how his throat seemed to close up at the mere thought, even though of course the possibility had occurred to him before. He’d simply never dared to voice it aloud, because possibility his son might be turned was almost worse than if Dean were dead.

“Nothing that has ever been proven…” John practically whispered finally.

 

* * *

Icy cold fear bloomed in the pit of Sam’s stomach. It was caused both by what John Winchester said, and what he hadn’t said. There was no way Sam was going to ask what they’d do if Dean was turned. No way he’d ask, because there was only one answer. They’d turn the world over, but they’d find the damned cure.

Silence stretched between them. Sam turned the radio on low, and concentrated on one thing… getting there. His mind never wandered, not once, as the truck ate up miles and miles of highway. Hours later, they were in a forested area and passed a small chapel that had a stained glass window depicting an angel with its arms stretched up. Sam mentally said something as close to a prayer as any and let out a sigh.

His jaw ached. He didn’t realize he’d been clenching it that hard. Rubbing it, he opened and closed his mouth, trying to relax the ache. Then he saw the sign indicating they were almost in Wenatchee. “Dad…” he turned to see if his father was asleep, “twelve miles left.”

 

* * *

John had been dozing on and off for the last few hours. Sheer exhaustion winning out over stubbornness and worry of what they would find when they finally reached their destination.

Though it hadn't exactly been a restful sleep, plagued with nightmares. Vivid ones he'd rather not remember, but unfortunately he did. The last one, when Sam's soft words woken him, had been about Dean. He'd dreamt of his son, finding him beaten and bloody, barely alive. Then right before his eyes, Dean's eyes had turned gold and John found himself frozen in place as he watched the younger man lunged for his brother and ripped out Sam's throat with his teeth…

So, no, he wasn't all that upset to be woken up right at that moment. But at least he was a little more rested physically than he had been before, he conceded, as he sat up from his somewhat slouched position in the passenger's seat. Rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn before turning his attention to Sam.

"Look for the Hillcrest Motel, it should be right off Route 2. That's where Jacobs said he would meet us. He should be staying there." John said as he took his cell phone out of his pocket and frowned at it. No missed calls, and no messages. The other hunter should have called him back by now.

 

* * *

"Okay." Shifting gears, Sam stepped on it. His father didn't have to say a word. His demeanor clued him in on the fact that he was worried about the lack of contact from the other hunter. Sam hoped the guy had a rough night and just hadn't been in any shape to make the call. They'd find him in the motel, and he'd... yeah, he'd lead them to Dean.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. If they'd done anything to Dean. If they'd so much as touched a hair on his head... between himself and his father, they'd tear those werewolves apart. Course even if they hadn't harmed Dean, their fate was already sealed.

Face grim, he turned off onto route 2, a narrow truck lane leading to the smallish town nestled in thickly forested rolling hills.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean forced his eyes open slowly, blood that had dried sticky on his face, making it difficult to do so. Almost more difficult than it was worth, he couldn't help but think with a soft groan as he pushed himself up slowly from the dirty floor with shaking arms. His bruised ribs and back protesting every single movement he made.

Yeah, way more difficult than it was worth. But at least he managed to shift around enough to sit back against the cold damp wall. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes again with another pained groan.

They'd really done a good job on him this time. He could just imagine how 'colorful' his back must look right now from all the new bruises and welts he could feel. They hadn't whipped him. The bitch wouldn't let them put any 'permanent' marks on him. But he couldn't imagine that would have been any more painful than the wide leather strap they'd beaten him with.

His punishment for trying to escape… again.

The cold heavy weight of the shackles around his ankles made his heart sink a little as he realized he wasn't going to be getting another chance any time soon. Apparently they weren't taking any chances this time.

He wondered how long he'd been unconscious…

Long enough for his throat to feel like he'd been swallowing sand he was so thirsty, but even as he cracked his eyes open again he knew they wouldn't have left him anything to drink. He'd been here long enough by now to know how things worked, and he wouldn't be getting anything until he started behaving like a 'good boy' again.

Yeah… right… not if he could help it.

* * *

Cassandra stood by the van and watched as several of the guys opened the back and dragged out four humans. Their prisoners had their wrists bound and their mouths gagged, and yet they were kicking and fighting. "Good picks," she said in her throaty voice, nodding her agreement.

Once they started heading toward the crumbling old mansion, she slammed the van's doors shut and followed. Her boots crunched over the gravel as she confidently strode up the long drive. All she had to do was give the couple sitting on the swing on the porch one look, and they scrambled inside to finish their chores. It was 'fight night,' and that pair was responsible for getting the arena ready.

Her hand slid over the surface of the front door, with its peeling paint, and she felt a sense of pride as she closed it behind her. The other werewolves snapped to attention, sat straighter on the sofas, stopped eating, and generally took on demeanors that confirmed she was their _Alpha_.

"We're at capacity again, ten men."

Cassandra nodded at Jordan. "Good. Let's see how many of them make it." Over the last year, their pack had grown. They'd handpicked humans with good fighting instincts and whenever possible, other useful talents. They'd pit them against each other, force them into death matches and turn only the ones they found worthy. The unworthy either died fighting, or became the playthings of the pups.

"What about Dean, is he secured?" she asked.

"Cass, that one's too much trouble. I think we should—"

"Who the fuck told you to think?"

Seeing her blue eyes turn positively frosty, Jordan knew he was asking for it. "He's going to find a way to get out, and if he doesn't, he's going to end up—"

"I want him. Alive. And in twenty days or so, he won't be a problem anymore. Where is he?" she practically snarled, feeling her hormones coursing through her body at the thought of bedding him. It had been so long since she'd felt like that for any man. Years ago, she'd thought she'd never find another mate, an alpha who could rule the pack at her side, as she'd done with her former one. But she'd been wrong.

Jordan shifted from one leg to the other, not liking her tone. It wasn't her tone, it was her godamned interest in that human. He had a feeling she was going to choose a mate. All these years, he'd been loyal to her, and she was going to choose a newcomer. An insolent bastard who hadn't given her the time of day.

"Where. Is. He." She asked again, through gritted teeth.

"Third floor, the blue room."

She started for the stairs, brushed her long black hair over her shoulder and gave Jordan a piercing look when he tried to follow. "Stay."

"Cass, he's dangerous."

"So am I," she purred, putting a hand on the banister and heading up the stairs.

Jordan's eyes grew dark as he watched his leather clad leader disappear. Just from her scent, he knew what she wanted.

*

Cassandra pushed the door open and sauntered inside. Her predatory eyes didn't need to adjust to the dark. She could see him in the corner. Smell his blood and sweat. Almost taste his hatred. Love, hate… it was all the same. She would have him. Soon, he would want it… once all his foolish human traits and emotions were gone.

Standing over him with her feet slightly apart, she let her gaze travel down and up his battered body. "Hello lover, you look like hell."

* * *

Dean turned his head towards the door when he heard it open and narrowed his eyes dangerously. Having to resist the urge to growl and lunge at the werewolf bitch when she sauntered in and approached him.

“Likewise, bitch.” He spat out through his teeth, though it came out more as a rasp through his dry throat.

If he thought he could manage it, he would have gladly ripped out her throat with his bare hands. But he knew it wouldn’t have done any good. Not only was he was too weak right now and she was a lot stronger than she looked, but if he tried anything against her the rest of the pack would take it out on him, beating him within an inch of his life. He’d learned that the hard way.

Though sometimes he simply didn’t care. Sometimes he wished he could piss her off enough that she’d get tired of keeping him here like a damn pet, and kill him like the others.

When they had first taken him, he had fought. He fought against them. He’d tried to escape. He’d even fought in their fucking ‘games’ because he had no choice. He’d killed… other men, normal men… because if he hadn’t they would have killed him. Those were the ‘rules’ and as much as he hated himself for it after, his survival instinct was just too strong to roll over and die.

Now, after six months trapped in this hellhole, he almost wished he had. He’d lost any hope of his father finding him, coming to help him months ago. He’d lost almost all hope of escaping. He’d tried so many times, and he never got far before they found him and brought him back. Punishing him… He’d almost forgotten what it was like _not_ to be in pain.

Not that he’d ever let them know that. That they were slowly breaking him down, every day a little more. But he wasn’t going to give in. To give _her_ what she wanted. He wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.

He didn’t belong to her. He didn’t belong to anyone.

* * *

So rebellious, so strong... so right to lead at her side, once the stubborn fool realized it. She stroked the side of his face with the toe of her boot, and pushed him slightly, never losing her smirk. The flare of anger in his eyes made her tremble with excitement.

Dropping suddenly onto her knees and straddling him, she put both hands on his chest and pressed him back against the wall. “You’re the one tied up like a dog. That makes you the bitch. _My bitch_.”

She felt his heart pulse against her palms and could imagine how it would feel when it was pounding with excitement. “You’re good at cards, aren’t you? Play yours right, and you can have a nice hot shower, a cool drink... a soft bed,” leaning in, she licked the corner of his mouth, tasting his blood, and rearing back. “Me.”

* * *

Dean continued to glare at her defiantly, refusing to flinch even when her leather boot brushed against his cheek. He wasn’t about to give her that pleasure. Or _any_ pleasure for that matter. After all, he knew ultimately what she wanted from him. She’d made it pretty clear many times.

He supposed, in a really sick fucked up way, he should be ‘flattered’.

She wanted him for a mate and unfortunately, werewolves didn’t seem to take, ‘thanks but no thanks’, as an answer very well. But she still wanted him badly enough that she’d kept him here for six fucking months, trying to force him to give in to her advances.

‘When hell freezes over,’ wasn’t an answer she had liked very much either.

When the bitch suddenly dropped down, straddling his lap, he tried to shove her off of him, but he was much too weak at the moment, and she easily pushed him back against the wall. Pinning him there, and he couldn’t stop a soft grunt of pain it caused from the bruises along his back. Still he glared, pulling away from her as far as he currently could when she leaned forward to lick at his lips.

He had to resist the sudden urge to bite her.

Instead his hands came up to fist in her long dark hair, drawing her closer until there was barely an inch between their faces. Their eyes locked. So close he could feel her breath against his lips when he whispered,

“I’d rather rot in hell.”

* * *

When he wound his hand in her hair and dragged her close, Cassandra’s pulse shot through the roof. She was ready to lock lips when the insult slipped out of his mouth. “You just might,” she snarled, ramming her forehead into the insolent bastard’s so hard, even she felt a blinding pain.

It didn’t give her any satisfaction, not when her plans of riding him all night long were snatched from her. Enraged, the beast within her surfaced. Shoving him back roughly against the wall again, she covered his mouth and plunged her tongue past his lips, ravaging his mouth, tasting old and fresh blood.

Feeling his struggles, she gripped his jaw and held him in place , renewing her assault. It was a hard and punishing kiss, one he would remember... one that would leave her mark on him for days to come. Her teeth ground against his teeth and cut into his lips, her thumbs pressed into his cheeks, forcing him to keep his mouth open for her, and her snarls warned him to be careful what he tried.

* * *

Dean had little warning, and no time to react, to the sudden attack. The unexpected sudden the blow to his forehead, not to mention his head ricocheting hard back against the wall, momentarily dazing him. Before he even really realized what was happening he was being shoved even more roughly against the wall and her mouth was violating his without mercy.

He immediately tasted fresh blood in the kiss, if it could even be called that, it was more like an attack, and he began to struggle beneath her. Trying to turn his head and spit out her tongue but having little luck when her hands grabbed his jaw. Forcing him to keep still and his mouth open, also preventing him from being able to bite her in retaliation. Holding him so tightly in fact there were bound to be bruises left, not to mention crescent shaped cuts from her fingernails on his cheeks afterwards.

Far from being cowed by her aggressiveness, or the warning snarls he could hear as well as feel against his tongue, he did not stop struggling. Instead growling in outrage into her mouth, his fingers tightening so brutally in her hair he felt several of the delicate strands snapping as he pulled as hard as he could. Prepared to literally yank fistfuls of her hair out trying to force her to release his mouth.

* * *

The more he tried to hurt her, the more merciless Cassandra was with him. It was a fierce battle for control, and if she’d wanted to, she could have torn him to pieces. But she wanted him alive, and kicking, and warming her bed ... she wanted to ride him into eternity, and she would... but she needed to be a little patient.

Pulling back, she punched him in the jaw and forced him to release her hair. “Oh baby, why don’t we just call that foreplay, hmmm? When you’re ready, we’re gonna need lots of room.” She dragged her hips up his abs and chest as she got up, biting her lip at the thrill that went through her. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll have you licking my boots and begging soon enough.”

There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind. Not a single one. He was the type who would never want to be in second place... he’d want the brass ring, and in this pack... she was the brass ring. “Dream of me...”

Turning on her heels, she left the room.

From the top of the stairwell, she looked down and shouted. “Jordan, get up here. Now.”

A few minutes later, Jordan joined her and found himself pushed bodily into her room. The scent of her arousal would be heady and he might have lost himself completely if he hadn’t known that she was hot for Winchester, that when she closed her eyes, it was that human she was seeing, and that when she pushed his hands over her breasts, it was Winchester’s hands that she was feeling.

“Call me bitch, but don’t say anything else, not a thing,” Cassandra demanded through gritted teeth as she ground herself against Jordan’s arousal. “Say it.”

*

Jordan was still breathing hard when he left her room. She’d fucked his brains out like she never had before and instead of being happy, all he felt was anger. He was about to lose her, if he didn’t do something about it. Nah, that wasn’t his style.

Though it wasn’t his job, he went to the kitchen and found the water allotted to the prisoner in the blue room. After the punishment that man had been through, water would taste like heaven to his parched throat. It would also take him to heaven... well, after a bit of hell. The clear poison he stirred into the water would burn through the man’s stomach. Not a pleasant death at all.

* * *

Dean’s head snapped to the side painfully when the bitch hit him, forcing him to release her, but at least she wasn’t kissing him anymore either. He shivered in disgust when she pressed against him and slowly turned a deadly glare on her as blood dripped from his mouth. Both from where she’d bitten him as well as from the punch.

He said nothing, but spat out blood and the taste of her from his mouth as she left. Next time she tried some shit like that he was going to bite off her tongue, he promised himself.

When the door closed behind her, Dean allowed himself to slide down the wall in exhaustion. Curling up once more on the dirty wooden floor and trying to think about anything other than her taste in his mouth, the feeling of her lips crushing his, the pain from his wounds, or the chains around his ankles.

He thought of driving the impala. He thought about his dad and some of the more ‘entertaining’ hunts they’d been on together. Then he thought about Sam. He wondered what Sam was doing. How he was doing. He hadn’t spoken to his brother since the younger man left for college, but he’d thought about him a lot. Sometimes even considered going to visit Sam at Stanford…

He’d knew he’d never get that chance now. But even as painful as that thought was, thinking about the times before Sam left, some of the jokes and pranks he’d played on his brother, getting into trouble with him, getting _out_ of trouble with him, just being brothers… it made him smile a little.

Dean finally closed his eyes, hoping the mental image of Sam smiling and laughing with him would follow him into his dreams.

***

The Hillcrest Motel was rather unremarkable, from any other motel they’d ever stayed in through the years. Still the view of the mountains and vast surrounding forest was rather spectacular. Not that John Winchester really paid much attention to the scenery when they pulled into the motor lodge parking lot. Sam parking the truck in front of the motel room Jacobs had told him he was staying in.

There was no other vehicle parked in front of the room, so John had the feeling the other hunter was not inside. Even though the man still hadn’t answered his cell phone, John’s most recent call once more going straight to voicemail.

It was strange enough that when John climbed out of the truck he told Sam, “Wait here. I’m going to go to the front desk. Get us a room and see if Jacobs left a message for us. If not, I want to check out his room.”

John was desperate to find his elder son, he didn’t want to wait around for the other hunter to get back from whatever he was doing. Maybe there would be some clue inside to where the other hunter had gone, or about the werewolves and Dean.

* * *

Sam obeyed his father for a full ten minutes before getting out of the truck and slamming the door shut behind him. He was going stir crazy and needed to know what was going on, not be told to sit and wait like the child that he’d been so long ago. Yeah, he remembered those days only too well. His dad telling them to stay in some motel room and wait… no explanation, no estimate of when he’d get back, and expecting full obedience.  
  
Well he wasn’t a freakin’ kid anymore, and he didn’t have to ask permission to leave the truck.

Face set and ready for a fight, he walked into the motel lobby. The receptionist was passing his father a key, and predictably, his father didn’t have his back to the door since he didn’t like being taken by surprise. The look of displeasure on his face was equally predictable, but Sam wasn’t going to care. Not now, they had more important things to do.

Turning his palms up as he spread his hands, he silently asked whether there was any news. He didn’t realize it, but he was holding his breath… hoping they had a fighting chance to get his brother back. So much had been left unsaid between them. He’d been so focused on fighting his father, he’d forgotten he’d left his brother standing there after all those years when Dean had been there for him. He needed a chance to apologize for that. Even if Dean was tough as nails and probably didn’t give a crap now, Sam needed to at least put it out there.

* * *

John was frowning even before door to the motel lobby opened and his younger son strode inside, even though he’d _specifically_ told Sam to wait for him outside.

He sighed however, and pushed the irritation he felt at that away. One, because he didn’t want to have an argument about it right now when they had more important things to worry about. Two, because he knew Sam was as worried about Dean as he was, and couldn’t really blame him from being impatient.

So John merely shook his head in response to his younger son’s silent inquiry as he finished signing them in with the receptionist. When the man asked him if they needed anything else, John asked if he had any movies to rent, and when the man went into the back to get one, John reached over the counter and grabbed the spare key to Jacob’s room. Unfortunately they didn’t have any time for subtly.

He joined Sam at the door before the receptionist returned. Ushering his son outside where they could speak freely and walking back towards Jacob’s room rather than their own.

“Jacobs didn’t leave anything for us, and the receptionist says he hasn’t seen any vehicles in front of the room for a day or two now even though Jacobs paid for two weeks in advance.” He told Sam with a frown.

Once they reached the door to the other hunter’s room, John let them in with the stolen key, and from the half eaten fast food meal left on the side table, he knew the receptionist had been right. Jacobs hadn’t been back here in a while. But the other man’s things were still here. There were various computer print outs, news paper clippings, a laptop, and other things were scattered over almost every available surface in the room.

“See what you can find.” John told his son, nodding towards the laptop as he picked up a pile of loose papers and started reading through the other hunter’s notes. Looking for clues about his son’s whereabouts.

* * *

The room scene was so hauntingly familiar, it made Sam’s heart ache. How many places just like this had they called home for weeks at a time when he’d been a kid? The fast food. The research. The news papers. The towels on the floor… he’d bet the clothes in the closet were blood stained.

 

Feeling the weight of is father’s gaze, Sam shook off the past and crossed the room to the lap top. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he started going through the files. There were many locked and password protected files, but he’d fool with those later.

He went put in the command to search for ‘most recently accessed documents and files,’ and then when they were pulled up, started skipping through them at lightning speed. Every once in a while, he looked to see what his father was doing, and his grim expression told him he wasn’t finding anything.

Sam started going through the picture files, then stopped. His gut practically froze. “Dad,” he whispered, staring at a black and white photo of various roughed up victims being pulled out of a van. One of them was Dean, and he looked like a broken toy, the way he was being dragged. He hit the ‘next’ button, and felt his jaw tighten. It looked like some sort of animal pen, with dead bodies… and Dean, holding a curved knife. “No…”

* * *

John riffled through the papers, that weren’t in any kind of order as far as he could tell, as quickly as he could. So far, unfortunately, nothing he found had mentioned Dean or where exactly Jacobs thought the werewolves actually were, to his increasing frustration.

If something had happened to Jacobs and he hadn’t left anything behind they could use… How were they supposed to find Dean then? They could search the surrounding wilderness literally for months and never find him.

The elder Winchester looked up at the sound of his younger son’s voice, the tone, not to mention the look on Sam’s face telling him even before he walked over to stand behind the younger man to see what he was looking at, he wouldn’t like it. He was right.

The elder man’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the heavily pixilated, but still unmistakably recognizable, photograph of his elder son. Even though the image was poor he could still see how injured Dean was, covered in cuts and bruises, and anger burned hotly through his veins as he glanced at the time stamp on the pictures.

They had been taken over several months time. Jacobs had obviously been tracking the werewolf pack for some time now. Why the other hunter hadn’t moved on them before now, he could only guess. But it was obvious the other man hadn’t been _trying_ to take pictures of Dean. He only had by accident, and if John had only just talked to the man sooner, Jacobs might have recognized Dean earlier, and they could have rescued his son _months_ ago.

John felt sick to his stomach.

“Did you find anything that might tell us where Dean is? A map? Coordinates? Anything?” The elder man finally asked. Swallowing hard as he went back over to the table and started looking through the various stacks of papers even faster. Shoving one stack onto the floor completely in his haste, but underneath to his surprise he found a folded over map of the United States. Several places circled on it, and crossed off. The last place circled here in Washington, and John could only guess this was what Jacobs had been using to track the pack’s movements.

* * *

Rubbing his eyes, Sam zoomed in on the first picture and picked up a pen and started writing. “A partial of the van’s plates.” It wasn’t much to go on, not when there wasn’t time... God, let there be time. Let them not have killed Dean, or worse. Sam knew there were worse things than death.

“We could ask around for sightings of the van. It’s a small town.” He was working furiously at the keyboard, hope flaring and dying each time he opened and shut a file that told him nothing. “Dammit...”

He felt like throwing the lap top across the room. “Dad, what’s this guy Jacob’s number?” He brushed the hair out of his eyes. “If he has his cell phone on, maybe we can track him.” Based on the pictures, it was pretty clear there was no way on earth Dean would be in possession of his cell so it was no use tracking Dean, but if they found Jacobs, he could lead them to Dean

After a short exchange, his dad gave him the number. “Let’s hope he’s GPS enabled.” Suddenly, it was like Sam never left hunting. He was so focused on succeeding, so determined, his world narrowed to the one task at hand. In order not to waste time, he set up accounts at various cell phone tracking sites, then got up and paced as he made his phone calls to see which one he could talk into activating tracking immediately.

Desperation was the _real_ mother of invention, and he invented one heartbreaking story after another, and finally smiled at his dad and nodded. “Got it.”

Back at the computer, he watched numbers fly across the screen as repeater triangulations narrowed in on state, county, city, and location. “Near here... look....” Printing off googlemaps, he went back to type in some more information. “Okay, if he goes on the move, we’ll get text messages on my phone.”

Picking up the printout, he walked over and passed it to his father. The satellite picture was not very clear, but it showed a large, lonely structure that was close to town. “Let’s go find him, and then can tell us where f... where he last saw Dean.”

* * *

John Winchester was quickly loosing his patience with the situation, if he had any to begin with. Jacobs had promised not to make a move without them until they got there, and now he was nowhere to be found and as far as he could see he’d left nothing behind for them that would help them find his son. They were so close, so close to finding Dean, and now…

The elder man threw a stack of papers on the floor in frustration. He was having no luck, but at least Sam was. Though John frowned a little when the younger man mentioned checking out the license plate number on the van. Which would take time, but wouldn’t be much help if the van was stolen or the werewolves no longer had it. Yes, they could ask around town for information, but again, _time_. Time they, and Dean, didn’t have.

Then suddenly Sam asked for Jacobs number, and though the elder man frowned in confusion at first, he gave it. Then when his son explained what he was doing John couldn’t help but watch over the younger man’s shoulder unmistakable pride as Sam worked on the laptop. Listened as his son poke on the phone, and within minutes the younger man was handing him a printed out map of where the other hunter was. Or at least his phone. But it was a start.

John smiled at his son and clapped him on the back.

“Lets go.” He said, taking the keys from Sam, locking the door to Jacobs’ room behind them, and getting in the truck. Not even bothering to drop anything off in their own room first before they were driving down the lonely back roads that would take them out past the edge of the town and into the more heavily wooded areas. Where nearly everything was isolated with acres of protected forest land between houses or other structures. Yet still close enough to the small town that ‘supply runs’ could be made.

It looked like a narrow overgrown dirt road would take them up the entire way to the structure on the map. But for the sake of caution John pulled the truck off the road into the trees where it could not be easily seen a little more than a mile away from their destination. They could hike the rest of the way easy enough.

John got out of the truck and went around back. Unlocking the secret compartment where his weapons and other tools for hunting were kept. He handed Sam a semi-automatic and a few clips of silver bullets. He also took out several more guns and ammunition, and put them into a bag. The first aid kit, just in case. As well as a long silver knife that he sheathed at his side.

“Ready?” The elder man asked finally, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

* * *

He really was too old to let a little thing like his dad’s approval make him feel good. Then again, these types of moments were few and far between when you weren’t ‘Dean Winchester, hunter, survivalist and con man galore’. If you were just a kid who liked to study and maybe wanted a different life, then you got sloppy seconds.

Sam took the government issue Colt and slapped in a full magazine, racking the slide to chamber the first round. Dropping the rest of the magazines into his pocket, he set the safety on the pistol and nodded. “Ready.”

They didn’t know what they would be facing, but he decided not to holster the pistol until they could assess the situation. They trudged through the woods in silence, both listening and taking note of their surroundings. The sun was shining through the branches, the birds were singing, but who knew what would happen ten minutes from now.

When his father’s hand flew in front of him, Sam stopped and watched as he signaled. Walking slowly around a tree, he saw what appeared to be a sprawling house. It wasn’t in great shape, but it wasn’t exactly falling apart either. But what really captured both men’s attention was the white van in front of the place.

Sam’s hand tightened around his pistol. “Let’s go get Dean.” Giving his dad a determined look, he headed toward the back of the house, staying in the trees for as long as possible, and breaking from them when his father did. They ran the short distance to the house then plastered themselves against the wall to see if they’d been noticed. After a few minutes, Sam pointed up. “Upstairs windows are all boarded up.”

It was eerily silent. Sam couldn’t tell whether it was a good sign or a bad one. He looked inside a first level window. Though there were some old curtains, they weren’t fully closed. He could see the room was empty, as was the hall connecting to the mostly empty room. He tried opening it, but it was locked. Turning, he saw his father was checking the other windows.

* * *

The hike through the woods had been uneventful. But neither he nor Sam, much to the older hunter’s approval, had let their guards down for even an instant. They both knew what could be out in these woods, and were prepared for it. Sam falling into step beside him as though the years between when his younger son had left for college and now had never happened.

Before too long they had reached the old crumbling Victorian style mansion deep in the woods. From a distance it looked out of repair and abandoned, but if there was one thing they both knew it was that looks could be deceiving. So they made their way closer even more carefully. Stopping just inside of the thick brush within the tree line.

Though it wasn’t until they saw the van parked in front that John easily recognized from the photos Sam had found on the other hunter’s laptop, that the elder man’s heart rate sped up. Adrenaline coursing through his veins as he realized though they’d been searching for Jacobs, they might have just found where the werewolves were keeping Dean as well. Could they really have been that lucky? But if so, where was the other hunter?

Nodding to his son’s soft words, the two men circled around the house, keeping in the cover of the trees. When they saw no sign of movement or security guarding the house, they quickly moved in closer. Checking a couple of the windows, not surprised to find them locked, but they weren’t wired with an alarm either. So John took out his pocket knife and easily slid the blade up under the old rotted frame. Unlatching the old lock at the top and sliding the window open silently.

Telling Sam to give him a boost first, and once he was inside and sure the coast was clear, helping his son in as well. Everything was quiet. Almost too quiet, and it set him on edge. Jacobs had said there were at least a dozen werewolves in the pack, but where were they?

They made a quick sweep though the first floor of the house and found nothing. No sign of the werewolves or Dean. When they reached the stairs John sighed.

“Let’s split up.” He said, even though he didn’t really like it, it was a huge house and they would cover more ground more quickly if they did. “Head upstairs. I’ll search the basement. Be careful.”

* * *

“You too dad, be careful,” Sam answered, staying a moment to watch his father disappear through a doorway leading downstairs. Taking a deep breath, he started to climb the stairs. They’d found nothing on the first floor. Sure there were signs that people were living there. There were beer bottles around, and chairs had been moved to watch the television, but where was everyone?

When he reached the top, he had his pistol pointed in front of him but angled slightly to the ground. Slowly, he headed down the hallway, moving into rooms and quickly scanning them. At the end of the hall, he heard the sound of a television, so he slowed down and crept closer. Through the crack in the door, he saw a burly man in a leather vest drinking beer and staring at the screen. He could have bypassed him, but the matter was out of his hand once a shot rang out from the basement. Not just one, but three back to back.

The man got up so quickly the chair fell from under him. If it weren’t for the way the man’s eyes turned unnaturally gold, Sam would have hesitated. As the man approached, Sam started to shoot, cursing when he started to go wolf and kept coming at him despite his wounds. The snarls and grunts were progressively more animalistic, and Sam knew he had to take him out before he transformed completely.

He moved in, almost but not quite escaping a blow that left his sleeve in shreds. He kicked the thing in the chest, shoving him back as he pointed the gun at its temple and pulled the trigger again. This time, it fell to its knees.

Sam ran out, speeding his progress as he heard more gunshots from downstairs. Where the hell was Dean? He found a locked door and kicked it a few times until it busted open… nothing!

Time was critical now, their presence was known. He swept the next room and the next, until he found another locked door. Breaking it down, he almost walked into pitch black. His eyes adjusted and he saw a bit of light coming through the boards nailed to the window, and then he saw the figure huddled on the ground. “Dean?”

There was no answer, but his gut told him it was his brother. Crossing the room he bent down and saw his bloodied and battered face. His heart constricted with fear and worry. So many words, so many things to say to his brother, but this wasn’t the time. He cupped the side of Dean’s face, searching his eyes for signs of recognition. “We’re getting you out. Now.”

* * *

John Winchester took the stairs down into the basement of the mansion slowly. Frowning a little as the old wooden stairs creaked softly under his weight with practically every step. Trying to force his eyes to adjust to the near pitch darkness that greeted him as he descended.

At the bottom of the stairs he paused. His gun held in front of him as he listened intently for any sounds of movement from the darkness in front of him or the floor above him. But he heard nothing except the skittering of rats in the shadows so he continued on.

Keeping his back mostly to the crumbling stone wall as he peered into several rooms but so far they only appeared to be ‘normal’ storage rooms. Food and other items haphazardly stacked or piled on shelves. A larger room seemed to be a slightly upgraded laundry room. Then further he saw what looked to be an old water heater and furnace. Just a ‘normal’ basement.

At least, until he reached the end of the hall and stepped into a room which was obviously the newest in the whole house if lack of rust and dirt on any of the equipment was any indication.

He felt sick to his stomach as he took in the long metal tables bearing dark stains John knew without a doubt was dried blood. Beside one of them neatly laid out were various tools. What looked like a surgical saw, and other items you normally wouldn’t expect to find except in an autopsy room, or a butcher shop… and in the very back a heavy metal door leading to a large walk in freezer…

John had absolutely no desire to see what might be inside. No wish to even consider that was why they had seen so many captives in those photographs along with Dean. He refused to believe that _this_ was where he might find whatever remained of his son. He would tear the rest of the house down stone by stone if he had to searching for his boy before he believed that.

He turned to go back the way he had come, to rejoin Sam, but before he could take a single step the freezer door opened and two large men emerged from inside. Their fronts covered by old dirty white aprons stained with fresh blood, their conversation choked off in mid sentence as they saw him and John didn’t hesitate raising his weapon, shooting the first right between the eyes with deadly accuracy.

The second roared in outrage, and John managed to fire off two more shots quickly, but unfortunately the werewolf jumped backwards into the freezer. His bullets embedding themselves harmlessly into the heavy metal door that swung shut behind it and John cursed sharply.

John heard echoing gunshots coming from upstairs and fear clenched in his gut, knowing they were from Sam’s gun, that his son was in trouble. One part of him wanting to run immediately and help the younger man, but he couldn’t leave an enemy at his back that could alert even more werewolves to their presence if the gunfire alone hadn’t done that.

The choice was taken from him abruptly when the freezer door burst open again and the werewolf fully changed into his animal form lunged for him with a near deafening roar. So fast that John barely managed to fire off one shot before he dodged and rolled out of the way of the snapping jaws and deadly claws that passed so close to him he actually felt the breeze from the swipe against the side of his neck.

The beast crashed into the wall behind where he had been, and John was on his feet again in less than a second. A good thing, because so was the werewolf and the hunter fired one shot after another as it tried to advance again. The first shot hitting it in the neck, and it roared in pain but kept coming. Once more trying to leap for him but his next bullet pierced directly through the beast’s heart as John jumped back, and the beast landed with a heavy thud at his feet and did not move again.

John wasted no time then leaping over the dead werewolf and running back the way he had come, up the basement stairs, then the ones leading him to the second floor. His heart hammering hard in his chest as he searched for Sam.

***

Dean had thought he heard the sound of gunshots, but he hadn’t been sure. It could have just been thunder, or a memory from his dreams.

It was hard to focus on anything through the intense pain burning though him. Feeling like a hundred knives were slicing him up from the inside out. Making him moan pathetically as he curled in on himself, clutching at his stomach in agony. Sweat beading on his brow and stinging his eyes, mingling with blood.

He tasted blood in the back of his throat…

When the door of his room suddenly burst open, Dean’s eyes snapped open as well, though he could barely focus. Not because of the dark. His eyes had long ago adjusted to the dark. He just… couldn’t… He couldn’t see the figure that slowly approached him, though something about him seemed familiar. The sound of his voice maybe…

Dean blinked rapidly, his eyes falling on and finally focusing on the half empty cup of water that had been left for him earlier. He’d been surprised by that. Considering how the bitch had left, but he hadn’t questioned it because he’d been so thirsty. Maybe, looking back, he should have…

Hindsight was 20/20 but he hadn’t thought that he had angered her so much she would have killed him. At least not like this…

An unexpectedly gentle hand touching his face brought him out of his wandering thoughts and he tried again to focus on the man now kneeling in front of him. Something definitely familiar, tugging at something deep inside him. Dean closed his eyes and breathed deep, and then suddenly he knew. He knew that scent… of course never like this, never this strong before, but he could still never forget it…

“Sammy…?” He wheezed, barely above a breath. Almost unable to believe, unable to hope, in case this was just a hallucination or fever dream brought on by pain. He didn’t think his mind could handle it if that was the case, but he wanted so badly to believe.

“Sam… water… pois…” Dean whispered before he was overcome by another wave of pain that doubled him in half, clutching his stomach and whimpering. The taste of blood now flooding his mouth.

* * *

“Yeah, it’s me. I got you now.” Just the few words, and a glance at the nearby mug was all that Sam needed to understand. His relief at finding his brother was layered with concern at the state he’d found him in, but now the added worry about what he might have been forced to ingest weighed on him. What if they’d found Dean only to lose him? No, that wasn’t happening, cause he fucking wouldn’t let it.

He checked the shackles on Dean’s ankles. “Hold still,” then shielding Dean’s body with his in case of a ricocheting bullet, he aimed his pistol at the metal chain and pulled the trigger. Once the links fell apart, he pulled the chain off the cuffs, and put his shoulder under Dean’s arm pit and pulled him up. “Let’s get you out of here, take care of … everything.” One arm around his brother’s waist, the other hand firmly gripping his gun, he started helping him across the room.

It was slow going, and Dean was practically doubled over. He knew his brother had a high pain threshold and that if he could have, he’d demand a gun and be wreaking revenge right now. The fact that he wasn’t was very telling.

“Dad’s here too,” he said, knowing that would be reassuring to his brother. “We expected more… werewolves,” he scrutinized Dean’s face once they were in the lit up hallway. The bruises and blood stood out on his brother’s extremely pale skin. He wanted so much to ask about bites, but kept it to himself for now. They’d deal with one thing at a time.

When they reached the head of the stairs, he tensed at the sound of footsteps. Just as he raised his pistol, he saw his father. They exchanged looks, and without another word, Sam twisted around and hauled Dean up over his shoulder. One hand on Dean’s ass to keep him in place, he started to descend with his father providing cover. It was a good thing he’d kept exercising these past few years or he might not have been able to lift him like this. Still, negotiating the stairs was a bit tricky.

* * *

Sam understood. Dean could see it in his eyes. Funny how he could still read those eyes so well, even after all this time. He could see Sam’s relief, as well as his concern, then determination, and he would have liked to reassure his brother somehow, but unfortunately Dean wasn’t up do doing much of anything at the moment.

Well, except nod. He had been able to manage that at least when his brother told him to stay still, and Dean didn’t even flinch at the gunshot. Trusting his brother completely.

Strange how none of this seemed odd to him. After so long, not having seen or even spoken to the younger man in literally years, he did not even question that Sam was here now. He only cared that his brother _was_ here. Really here. It was Sam’s arms around him, helping him up. His brother holding him close, taking him out of this hellhole. That was more than enough for him.

Dean tried, he really tried to walk. To keep up with the younger man, but that was impossible, even with Sam taking practically all of his weight. He was simply in too much pain. Too weak. Shaking and breathing heavily with every stumbling step he took.

He barely registered Sam’s words about their father, but it was almost, if not more surprising, than his brother being here. That _both_ Dad and Sam had come for him. Together… Before he could question it too much though, Sam was mentioning the werewolves and Dean tried to answer. He really did. Most of werewolves were probably at the pens for the other prisoners. Watching the ‘fights’… watching men and women kill each other… they had to help them… But he just couldn’t get more than a strangled moan out of his throat.

Before he knew it, they were at the stairs, and Dean managed to look up when he heard the sound of running footsteps, tensing. But when his eyes met those of his father, he relaxed again, sagging against his brother with a small sigh.

John couldn’t really describe what he felt when his eyes finally fell on his elder son for the first time in months. Relief of course, that almost left him feeling weak, but also seeing his son in such a state filled him with equal amounts of rage at the creatures that had done this to his boy, but also concern. Especially when Sam suddenly hauled Dean up onto his shoulder to carry him, and his elder son did not so much as protest.

The elder man’s eyes locked with Sam’s, not a word passed between them, but there didn’t need to be. John turned around on the stairs, leading the way with his gun raised, and Sam followed behind him closely with his brother. They needed to get Dean out of here. Now. They could deal with the werewolves later.

If either man thought it was strange that they met no further resistance inside the house or outside, neither mentioned it. Once they were back under the cover of the trees, they broke into a run to get back to the truck as fast as they could. John glancing at his son’s every once in a while, concern evident every time he looked at Dean who still had not moved or said anything while his brother carried him. John couldn’t tell if he was even conscious or not.

It wasn’t until they finally reached the truck, and John helped Sam set his brother down that he noticed the blood on Dean’s lips. His son’s skin unnaturally pale, eyes glassy and unfocused. John checked Dean’s pulse, horrified to find how weak it was, and when Sam told him about the poison the elder man's heart rate shot through the roof.

“Get in the truck!” The elder man commanded, fear for Dean’s life making his tone perhaps sharper than he intended, but he couldn’t worry about that right now as he lifted his elder son into his arms and helped settle him into Sam’s lap in the front seat of the truck. Digging the first aid kit out and shoving it into his younger son’s hands as well as he ran around to the other side of the truck and jumped in the drivers seat.

“In the first aid kit there is a bottle of activated charcoal, Sam. The dose is on the bottle. You’ll have to force him to swallow it. It will absorb the poison, keep more of it from getting into his system…” John explained as calmly as he could as the truck peeled out of the woods and back onto the road in a shower of dirt and dead leaves. Barely acknowledging the speed limit laws as he drove. Praying they could get him back to the motel room fast enough to help him. Praying that he hadn’t found his son just to watch him die in his brother’s arms now…

* * *

It was convenient, but it scared Sam to death that his brother hadn’t so much as protested the manhandling, the carrying like he was some package. Not a single word escaped Dean’s lips. His brother didn’t try to push off him, or grip him to hang on, or even tense up. The look in his dad’s eyes, and his gruff tone as he ordered them into the truck told Sam there was damned good reason for his fears.

As his dad took off, Sam quickly re-arranged their bodies so they could fit in the front seat and he would have a range of movement to be able to reach the kit. Another close look at Dean’s face, and _fuck…_ he could tell from the anguish in his eyes that his brother was in a hell of a lot of pain. “Dad, maybe we should…” He wanted to say hospital, he wanted Dean’s stomach pumped, he wanted him to have the best chance, even if that wasn’t what hunters did… even if they usually took care of their own. But then, the closest hospital was at least an hour away, and they didn’t have that kind of time. He shook his head and trailed off, instead, doing as his father asked.

Reading the directions on the small bottle, he estimated Dean’s weight and poured a measure of the charcoal into the little cup that came with it. Sliding his hand behind Dean’s head, he brought the cup up to his mouth. “Dean, drink.”

His brother took one mouthful, and then tried to pull away as if the charcoal was causing more pain. “Come on man, you gotta drink it,” he urged, pushing the cup to his mouth again. This close to Dean, he could hear his brother’s stomach literally churning and growling. “Let’s get it in your stomach, it’ll help… Dean.” Frustrated and worried, he forced Dean’s face up and poured into his mouth, even when Dean made choking sounds. “You can kick my ass later, I swear… just get this down. Please.”

* * *

Dean had tried to focus on what was happening, he really did. He tried to see, but it was like a thick film had been slid over his eyes, making him unable to focus on anything. He tried to listen, but he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heart beating loudly in his ears. He tried to understand what was going on. He hated not knowing. But every time he tried to concentrate on what was happening around him, to him, another wave of pain, centered in his gut, would slam through him, making him wish he could just pass out in order to make it stop.

The only thing he was really aware of was moving. Being moved. He couldn’t move by himself. And the only reason he was aware of those things was because the moving made the pain worse. Something he hadn’t even thought possible, but it was. He wanted it to stop. He just… wanted it all to stop. Everything… It didn’t. But he knew when it suddenly changed. When he wasn't being carried anymore. The moving didn’t hurt quite so much now, but that hadn’t stopped the other pain.

Dean was far too disorientated at first to realize what was happening when he felt something being pressed between his lips, something being poured inside his mouth, and at first he swallowed reflexively so he wouldn’t choke. But the second the taste hit his mouth Dean started to resist. Trying to turn his head and close his throat to whatever was being forced inside of him. He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t want to know. All he knew was he didn’t want any more pain, and it hurt…

Yet he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t fight it, even though he tried. Tried to hold it in his mouth and not swallow, even when his head was forced back at an uncomfortable angle, and the only choice he was given was to swallow or choke on the foul substance.

Sam… Why was his brother doing this? Why was he trying to hurt him?

Then he heard his brother's voice… or he thought he did… he wasn’t sure anymore… and even though he couldn’t really understand the words, he knew the younger man’s tone. The one that could convince him to do anything. Whether it was giving up his share of the Lucky Charms, or arguing with Dad to let them stay in one place just a couple months longer so Sammy could finish school…

He could never deny that voice anything, so he swallowed. Even as he coughed roughly afterwards. Moaning softly in pain.

John glanced over at his boys, worry etched on every line of his face, but at least Sam had managed to get Dean to drink the charcoal. God, he prayed it would help. If it didn’t… if they were too late… No, he wasn't going to loose his son now. Not after everything. They would be back at the motel in less than five minutes. His eyes back on the road the elder man reached over to grasp Dean’s wrist, his fingers finding the pulse beating weakly, but at least it was still there.

_Hold on Dean..._

When they finally pulled into the motel parking lot it was with tires screeching the entire way, but John hardly cared. Driving around the back where their room was located and pulling into the parking spot directly in front of their door.

“Do you have him?” John asked quickly. Intending to let Sam take care of bringing his brother inside, and he would bring in the supplies they would need to take care of Dean. But if Sam needed help…

* * *

“I’ve got him,” he confirmed, pushing the passenger door open and dragging Dean out with him. “Dad, he’s worse.” The words just fell from his mouth as he held onto Dean who wasn’t even trying to stand anymore. The grunts of pain scared the hell out of Sam. He’d seen Dean shot, cut, battered… but he hadn’t heard him make sounds like this, or give in to pain.

Lifting him once again over his shoulder, Sam rushed the short distance to the motel room door and walked in the minute his father had it open. In a few strides, he was at the side of one of the double beds, laying his brother down. He wiped Dean’s mouth clean of some of the black liquid mixed with blood and struggled against the need to shout that this wasn’t fair, that they’d gotten him out of a den of werewolves and that this… this they could have freakin' done without.

“You’re gonna be alright. Dean can you hear me?” He felt powerless to help his brother and that alone was driving him crazy. His first instinct was to offer water, but he knew that would only dilute both the poison and the charcoal. Brushing Dean’s hair back, he slid his hand down to his shoulder, offering him what comfort he could, and not knowing whether the glazed look in Dean’s eyes meant he didn’t even recognize him anymore. “You’re gonna be okay,” he repeated, looking over at his dad who came up behind him. Suddenly, he felt like he was ten years old all over again, asking his father to give him the reassurance he needed.

* * *

John gave a short nod when Sam assured him that he could handle his brother, and wasted no time then getting out of the truck. Quickly moving around to the back and pulling out the duffel that contained most of their first aid supplies. After locking up the truck quickly he ran to the motel door, opening it for Sam letting him in first with Dean and following his son’s inside right after.

While Sam settled his brother into one of the beds, John started emptying the contents of the duffel out on the other. Trying to block out the sounds of pain Dean was making, and Sam doing his best to comfort his brother. He had to keep focused if he was going to be able to help his son.

Gathering what he thought he would need, the elder man moved in beside Sam. Placing a hand briefly on his younger son’s shoulder, offering what reassurance he could, before he turned all his attention on Dean.

His elder son’s eyes were still unfocused, Dean seeming almost completely unaware of his surroundings. But when John shined a small light into them to check for pupil dilation the younger man blinked. He must have been slightly aware then, even though John couldn’t see anything other than pain in his son’s eyes.

The elder man checked his elder son’s pulse next. Carefully counting the beats and timing them to before. Even though he did not like the weak rapid pulse, not to mention Dean’s quick short breaths, at least it was no worse from before. That was something. But the dark red blood staining his son’s lips was extremely worrying. From the color alone John could tell it came from Dean’s stomach, and the elder man slid his hands down to press lightly against his son’s abdomen. Causing Dean to nearly come off the bed with a cry.

“Sam, hold him down!” His told his younger son, swallowing hard around the tightness in his throat, blinking away the wetness in his eyes, seeing Dean in such pain caused. John had a needle full of morphine ready to give his son, but he had to make sure first… The elder man shifted his hands a little lower on Dean’s abdomen, below his stomach where his intestines would be and pressed down again. Dean whimpered softly, but the reaction wasn’t nearly as bad, and John let out a small sigh of relief.

Whatever the poison was, Dean must have only just ingested it recently. It hadn’t gotten past his stomach into his intestines yet, which was where most of it would have been absorbed into his blood. If the charcoal worked like it should, it should stop most, if not all, of the poison from being absorbed into his son’s body.

He only wished he knew exactly what poison his son had been given. The activated charcoal was the most common treatment for poisoning used in emergency rooms, but it wasn’t effective against all poisons. What if it did not help his son at all? There was no way to know until it would be too late…

John swabbed his son’s arm with an alcohol wipe and picked up the needle with the painkiller, and injected it into Dean’s vein. As the younger man slowly began relax as the drugs kicked in, John continued to examine his son’s stomach. Noting the various bruises along Dean’s abdomen, but none of them seemed to be signs of internal bleeding.

“I think we were lucky, Sam.” He told his younger son, giving Sam a small smile when Dean blinked and looked like he was starting to come around a little now that the pain had begun to recede.

* * *

Holding Dean down like that while his brother was struggling against the pain was one of the hardest things Sam had done. His lashes were wet, but he didn't know if it was from having to watch his dad inflict the pain, or from seeing the tears held back in their father's own eyes. Either way, by the time the examination was over and Dean started to calm as a result of the pain meds, Sam had a lump the size of Texas in his throat.

"Lucky. Right," he closed his eyes and told himself it was true. It could be worse. Dean could be dead. He could still... No. He fought the icy fingers of fear invading his belly. They'd gotten this far, and they weren't gonna lose him. No way.

When he opened his eyes, he saw his father's gaze on Dean, then their eyes met. The big white elephant in the room was the question of whether Dean had been bitten. "Let him rest a while," Sam whispered, half expecting an argument or a contradictory order. When his father let it go, he turned back to Dean and took off his shoes and got him as comfortable as he could.

A little later, crossing the room, he sat at the little table. He hadn't sat across a table from his father in years, and it was a bit awkward when his dad sat down too. There was so much unsaid between them. So much that would always be unsaid because whenever they tried to talk about the things that mattered, it turned into a shouting match.

Sam dry washed his face. "Dad? Thanks." He looked at him. "For getting me."

* * *

John nodded a little when Sam suggested that they let Dean rest. There was more that needed to be done. Questions that needed to be asked, and answered, but for now they could wait.

So the elder man stood by and watched as Sam did his best to make his brother comfortable. Noting to his relief that his elder son had relaxed even more, his breathing beginning to even out, by the time his brother was covering him up lightly with a sheet.

“Get some sleep, son.” John said softly as he ran his fingers lightly through Dean’s hair. He wasn’t even sure if his son heard him or not, but a moment later Dean’s eyes slid closed and the elder man straightened up. All they could really do now was wait.

John joined his son, sitting down opposite him the room’s only table. It was either that, or pace. Adrenaline still pumping fast through his veins making it difficult to stay still. His fingers clenched and unclenched where they rested on the table between them.

He wanted to go back. To where they’d found Dean. Put a bullet between the eyes of every fucking animal there that had done this to his son. The elder man didn’t think he’d ever felt such rage towards something they’ve hunted, aside from the creature that had killed his wife all those years ago.

The elder man pushed that anger down, however. As strong as it may be, it would not control him. Taking care of Dean, making sure his older son was all right. That came first. After that, the beasts would pay for every drop of blood that Dean had spilled with their own.

His eyes turned to Sam when his younger son finally spoke. A little surprised by the words, but he didn’t hesitate replying honestly, “I’m glad you were with me.”

* * *

Sam smiled and nodded. “Me too.”

They discussed their theories as to where Jacob and the other human captives were, but knew they’d have to wait until Dean was better to get the details. His dad said he’d get a couple hunters together and take care of the whole pack. The way he said it scared the hell out of Sam. He’d hate to be on the other side of John Winchester when he had revenge burning in his eyes.

Oddly, they didn’t argue or fight at all. They spoke in low tones, each one occasionally checking on Dean. It was a relief to see that his brother’s pain had eased, and that he was actually resting.

Glancing at him, he noticed that while Dean was still pale, there was a slight sheen on his forehead. Pushing away from the table, he walked to the bed and touched his brother’s forehead, then looked at his dad. “He’s burning up. I think we should give him a cool bath.”

At the older man’s nod, Sam went and started the bathwater running and came back to strip his brother. There was a time when their roles were reversed. When he was young, too young to go on those week long hunts they used to go one. They’d get back home... wherever their home of the moment was, and he’d collapse somewhere with his clothes on and refuse to change. All he wanted was sleep. But Dean would change him and tuck him in, or make him bathe if he stank.

“Dean, sit up,” shaking his brother awake, he helped him up and took off his shirt. Unbuttoning his pants and tugging on the zippers, he had Dean stand, leaning his entire weight on him, and pulled his dirty and bloodied jeans clear off. “Come on, let’s get you into the bath.”

Once they made it to the bathroom, he pulled Dean’s shorts off. “I’d make some sort of locker room joke, but that’s your job,” his gaze never left Dean’s face. “In you go.”

As Dean stepped in, he almost slipped out of Sam’s arms. “Oh fuck,” gripping him tight, Sam let out a sigh of relief. All they’d need was for Dean to hit his head and it would be complete clusterfuck. Slowly, he lowered him inside the water.

* * *

Dean hadn’t been asleep. Not really. He didn’t let himself sleep. Maybe because a part of him was afraid if he did he would wake up to find this had all been a dream. He didn’t think he could handle that. So he forced himself to stay awake, though he let his eyes remain closed and his thoughts drift. The drugs he’d making him feel a little sluggish, but they also numbed and relaxed him and left him feeling pleasantly high.

He was glad that Dad had given him the good shit.

Dad… he still almost couldn’t believe it. His dad had finally come for him. Dad and Sam. His brother. His Sammy. He could hear them talking. Not far away, their voices pitched low, probably so they would not disturb him. Too low for him to pick out the actual words, but it still had to be one of the most amazing things he’d ever heard in his life. He never thought he’d hear that again.

Even before the werewolves…

When he felt soft cool fingers brush against his forehead he couldn’t help but smile faintly. He was happy. Really happy. For the first time in literally months. Just because Sam was there. He didn’t even care how crappy he felt.

He finally cracked his eyes open when his brother shook him a little, telling him to sit up, and then Dad was there helping him too. Stripping him out of his dirty and blood stained clothes that Dean was more than happy to be rid of. He leaned heavily against Sam when his brother pulled him to his feet.

John remained in the main room for the moment to clean up after them, letting Sam take care of his brother. Throwing the dirty ruined clothing into a plastic bag, and stripping the bed Dean had been laying in of the dirty sheets. Pulling a set of clean ones out of the closet and making the bed so his son would have a clean place to lay once he was out of the bathroom.

Dean found he did not want to let go of his brother, even when this violated all of his ‘no chick flick moment’ rules. His arms remaining around the younger man securely, and strangely he felt no sense of modesty or shame, even when his brother stripped him completely naked after helping him into the bathroom. Aside from the fact that he didn’t think he could stand up on his own without the support, feeling as wobbly as a newborn colt, he just… wanted to be close to him. To feel him. Smell him. Proving to himself again and again that his brother really was there.

“Sam…” Dean started to say, but he wasn’t even sure what he _wanted_ to say to his brother. His head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton either from the drugs or the fever, he wasn’t sure. Making it hard to think. So when Sam told him to get into the tub, he merely nodded, and tried to do as his brother said.

Feeling his feet go out from under him almost immediately when he tried to move on his own, but Sam’s arms caught him and held him securely, and Dean tightened his own arms around his brother reflexively. Burying his face against the younger man’s neck, breathing him in deeply even as Sam started to lower him down into the cool water.

“Don’t leave…” Dean managed to mutter softly, hopefully, looking up into his brother’s eyes when the younger man finally pulled away enough that he could see them.

* * *

It was like a dagger to Sam’s heart. Guilt washed over him. He’d left his brother behind once before, and he wasn’t so sure that Dean wasn’t talking about that. Gazes locked, he made his promise. “I won’t. I won’t Dean, I’m right here... as long as you need me. Right here.”

Still holding him, he helped Dean lay back in the water. “I know the water’s cold, but you’ve got a fever. We’ve got to get it down. And we’ll get you cleaned up, alright? You don’t have to answer if it’s too hard. Just want you to know what’s going on.”

Gently, he washed Dean’s face and then started to soap his shoulders and arms. Seeing the bruises and the cuts, he bit his lip. While his brother had been beaten and tortured and put through things he might not even be able to imagine, over the last few months, Sam had been ever so comfortable at home. Lattes, study hall, brewskies at the pub, laughter... softness. Moved, he felt his throat constrict again.

Unable to help himself, he leaned down and hugged Dean tight, not caring he was getting wet in the process. “I’m glad you’re okay, Dean. I was... so scared of what we’d find.” Yeah, he was getting in his chic flick moments before his brother could fight back, and it was a dirty rotten trick, but he needed this. “I...”

* * *

Sam’s soft promise was like a balm to a wound that had been hurting for so long that he’d almost forgotten about it until the pain was suddenly gone. Dean swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat, his chest feeling tight, and he was glad that his brother didn’t expect him to answer because he didn’t think he could.

He just felt… overwhelmed. By everything. A couple of hours ago he’d been little more than a broken plaything for that psychotic werewolf bitch. With no hope in the immediate future other than more pain and humiliation that he had been enduring for the past six months. And now…

He felt like a child waking up from a bad dream. A six month long nightmare, he just couldn’t believe was finally _over_ , and what was more, Sam was here with him. His brother, who he’d never thought he’d see again. Literally a dream come true. And damn it he just wanted to hold onto the younger man and never let go.

Dean didn’t even care how uncomfortably chilly the water felt against his overheated skin. He simply closed his eyes and let Sam take care of him. Letting his brother wash his face gently, the younger man’s hands sliding down to his shoulders and arms when he was done, and while a part of him knew he should be putting up some kind of protest over the treatment, he didn’t.

It wasn’t Sam’s job to take care of him, certainly not like this. But he had been hurting for so long, and his brother’s fingers just felt so damn _good_ he didn’t want Sam to stop. He could feel embarrassed later, as far as he was concerned.

So when his brother leaned in and hugged him close, the only sound Dean made was one of contentment. Like a low purr in the back of his throat as he wound his arms around his little brother. His fingers finding their way into Sam’s soft hair and pulling him even closer. Burying his face against the surprisingly soft skin of the younger man’s throat and inhaling Sam’s scent deeply. Letting it wash over him like a warm comforting blanket.

“Sammy… missed you…” He whispered close to his brother’s ear. “So much…”

* * *

If he weren’t swamped by guilt, Sam would have laughed. Dean would totally hate his loopy counterpart and call him a sap, or worse. But the reality was that Dean had missed him not just these six months, but far longer. In his selfish need to get away from their life style, Sam had taken up all these new things, like school, and a girlfriend... and yeah, he’d missed Dean, but he’d had a lot of shiny new things that helped him fill the hole in his life.

He let Dean hold him a moment longer. “I did too. I should have called you. I should have...” he pulled back so he could look his brother in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I have a lot to answer for. Okay... relax now, let me get the rest of you.”

In his drugged up state, Dean’s reaction time seemed slow and it took him a while to listen to his instructions. But soon Sam was free to finish washing him.

He got Dean’s back, his hips, and one leg. He tried not to be obvious about scrutinizing him, but he was looking for marks. He was almost home free... almost... when he stopped and stared at the angry red teeth mark standing out on the flesh of Dean’s inner thigh. Feeling like he’d been sucker punched, Sam tried to breathe as he stared and ran his hand with disbelief over the wound.

* * *

As much as it comforted him to hear Sam say that he missed him to, Dean didn’t really want to hear the rest right now. Didn’t want to be reminded of the year and a half that he _could_ have talked to Sam, but didn’t, after his brother had left their family. He didn’t want to think about it because it would only make him upset, and he just wanted to enjoy the fact that Sammy was back and here with him _now_. The rest wasn’t important.

So when Sam suggested that they finish getting him cleaned up, he merely nodded. Letting the younger man move him pretty much any way he wished since he was having such a hard time getting his body to cooperate on its own.

He really liked the feeling of Sam’s hands moving across his back. Despite the heavy bruising from the last beating he’d been given, it felt good, and Sam’s hands were careful. But then, his brother’s hands always were. Even when the sasquatch had developed paws the size of catcher’s mitts.

After a rather brief awkwardness during his teenage years, his brother had developed a kind of grace and precision in everything he did that never failed to amaze him. Not that he’d ever admit it. Even with his inhibitions shot to hell by morphine.

Dean smiled a little when his brother’s hands ran across the ticklish spots on his ribs, then closed his eyes and leaned back against the side of the tub when Sam’s touch moved lower. Over his hips and down one leg and he had to bite his lip to stifle a soft moan that threatened to escape. His thoughts drifting further out of his control the more he relaxed. Less concerned with the knowledge that he shouldn’t be enjoying this so damn much, and just wanting his brother to…keep going… He wanted more…

When his brother’s fingers ghosted over his inner thigh, his breath caught a little. Almost not registering the slight sting of pain when Sam touched the tender wound there. Though he did notice when his brother’s fingers stopped, and his eyes were already sliding open, questioning, even before he heard his father’s voice from the doorway.

“Sam, almost done?” John asked as he stepped into the bathroom.

* * *

When Sam looked up at his father, the misery was plain in his eyes. “Almost,” he answered in a strained whisper. Unable to bring himself to say the words, he literally pushed Dean’s leg up from under the now murky water to show his father the bite.

Letting the leg drop, he added. “It’s infected. That’s probably why Dean’s got a fever.”  
  
Passing the soap to Dean to let him take care of his privates, his gaze once again met his father’s. He was trying to stay calm. Trying to fight against the panic building up inside him. Seeing his father’s naturally stern face, another fear niggled at his brain. What if they didn’t find a cure? What if his father thought to put a bullet in Dean’s head to end as a last resort?

The thought of anyone harming Dean anymore, even hypothetically, made Sam’s blood boil. His stare took on a harder edge. “We’ll fix him or else I’ll watch him every month, if necessary.” The warning was clear to his parent, he didn’t even have to say the words telling him not to even think about his ‘last resort’ solution.

* * *

The expression on his younger son's face when Sam finally turned to look at him hit John Winchester like a blow to the stomach. He almost did not even need to see it, when the younger man showed him the angry infected bite mark on his elder son's inner thigh. The look on Sam's face had told him everything, and somehow he'd just known…

Still when he saw the bite, it felt like all of the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room, and he was forced to put a hand out on the door to steady himself. Fighting desperately to maintain some expression of calm when all he really wanted to do was scream in rage.

He couldn't believe this was happening. Or maybe he simply didn't _want_ to believe it. For months he thought he had lost his son, found him, and now this…

Dean didn't seem aware at all of the tension in the room. Taking the small bar of soap away from his brother and washing himself without any apparent care in the world. The elder man knew his 'obliviousness' was most likely due to the drugs, or the fever, or both. Dean had to _know_ what had been done to him, but at the moment, his son obviously didn't care. Dean only seemed genuinely… happy… Even when it felt like the whole damn world was falling apart, and John fought against the hot sting of tears crowding behind his eyes.

Sam's words snapped his attention back to his younger son, the sharpness of Sam's tone, the look in his eyes, as though John were suddenly some kind of danger, hit him hard. Dean was his son, damn it! What did Sam think he was going to do to him? But the elder man swallowed down the automatic defensive reply that wanted to escape, if only because Dean had finished and was now looking back and forth between his father and brother questioningly.

"We'll talk about this later, Sam." John said as calmly a he could manage right now. They had just gotten Dean back, he was sick and injured, and the last thing he needed to see right now was the two of them fighting. Worse, fighting about him.

"Dad?" Dean asked softly, and John gave his elder son a reassuring smile he hoped did not look as forced as it felt.

"It's alright, Dean. Let's get you back to bed now." The elder man said as he moved to help Sam get his brother out of the tub.

* * *

As soon as his father had a towel around Dean, and Sam was helping him step out, Sam made sure his eyes locked with his father’s. “There’s nothing to talk about. If he’s not cured, you’ll _give him to me_.” He wasn’t backing down on this, and he needed his father to understand... even if it made things awkward.

One arm behind Dean, he started to walk inside, still tense but glad to see that Dean was walking a bit better. When they reached the bed, Dean simply let the towel fall.

Sam gave something between a cough and a groan at being flashed, but got over it and helped Dean put on some briefs. Seeing the sloppy smile on Dean’s face, he had a sneakin’ suspicion his brother was just testing his sensibilities. Using only one finger, he pushed Dean’s chest, but caught him before he fell all the way back, gently laying him down on the bed.

He started to part Dean’s legs and felt some resistance. “Just gonna take care of this, okay? Dean?” Locking gazes with his brother, forced his knee to turn out. Behind him was the first aid kit. Grabbing it, he rifled through it and found the items he needed.

“Gonna hurt a little.” He felt his father moving around the room, but didn’t look at him. That little exchange had put an end to the relative truce they’d reached only a short time ago. Letting out a deep breath, Sam bent over Dean and using a peroxide-iodine mix, started to clean his wound. He tried to be gentle, but he had to remove the damaged skin. “Dean, don’t move.” Using one hand to press down on his thigh, he continued with short strokes until the wound was completely clean.

Though he might have looked like the epitome of calm as he applied antibiotic cream and taped up the wound, inside, he was full of icy fury. If he ever got his hand on the werewolf that had done this to his brother, that fucker would be dead faster than even his dad could shoot.

He ran his hand over the bandaging when he was done, then pulled only a light sheet over Dean. His brother still felt warm, but at least he wasn’t burning up. “Get some rest, okay? And water.” He brought a bottle of water to Dean’s lips as it was easier than trying to make him drink from a cup. “At least have a little, okay?”

* * *

His younger son’s words, not to mention the look the younger man had given him, made John Winchester stop. Forcing him to hang back as Sam helped Dean back to bed by himself, because if he hadn’t he probably would have grabbed the younger man and shook him until his teeth rattled.

_Give him to me... If he’s not cured..._ Sam had demanded like Dean meant nothing more to his father than a piece of meat being fought over by two angry dogs. As though John would simply throw Dean away, or worse....

Dean was his _son_ God damn it!

John knew he might have made some mistakes... especially with Sam, considering his younger son obviously hated him so much he actually believed that he _could_ somehow hurt Dean. Like it was even possible. The elder man would have an easier time putting a gun to his own head and pulling the trigger. He would do anything for his boys, either of them, and if it was the last thing he did on this earth he would find a way to save Dean. With or without Sam’s ‘blessing’.

The elder Winchester paced around the motel room like an angry caged animal. The fragile reigns on his temper threatening to break like a rubber band that had been stretched too far beyond its limit and Dean was blissfully unaware of the state his father was in. His every sense so focused on his brother it was like nothing else in the world existed. His eyes never left the younger man. Drinking him in as though he feared if he even blinked that his brother would vanish like a ghost. The arm his brother had around him for support simply didn’t seem enough. He wanted to wrap both of his arms tightly around the younger man. Pull Sam against him tightly so there wasn’t a place the two of them did not touch. Bury his face into his brother’s neck and just breathe him in.

He did not want anything between them... nothing...

Dean let the towel slip off his hips when they reached the bed, and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the sound his brother made. He always did enjoy teasing the younger man. That hadn’t changed in the least, and he felt drunk enough on pain medication to feel playful. He managed to remain balanced enough on his feet by himself to allow the younger man to get some underwear on him, but the slight push Sam gave him had him toppling backwards with a laugh.

He wasn’t surprised when his brother’s arms caught him however, laying him back the rest of the way onto the bed gently. He trusted Sam completely. Though when he felt his brother’s hands pushing his legs open, Dean looked up questioningly at the younger man for a moment before he relaxed and let Sam do what he wanted.

Nodding a little in understanding, even though his thoughts were growing foggier by the second now that he was back in bed, relaxed, and comfortable. Even when Sam started cleaning the bite mark on his inner thigh, which did hurt a little, so he focused instead on his brother’s other hand. Letting his eyes drift shut as he concentrated on the warmth soaking into his sensitive skin where Sam had never really touched him before but he... liked it. A soft moan slipping from his lips involuntarily when his brother’s fingers brushed over the bandage once he was finished.

Dean blinked his eyes open when he felt the cool sheet cover him, smiling faintly up at the younger man with what could only be complete adoration. He was tired. More than ready to sleep again, but when Sam pressed the bottle of water to his lips, he drank slowly. Because his brother had asked, even though his stomach felt a little queasy. The small sips of water he managed made his throat feel better at least, but Dean felt completely exhausted by the time he was finished.

His eyelids felt like they had heavy weights drawing them down and he didn’t resist it. After all, Sammy was there, Dad was there, he knew he was safe now.

Once John Winchester saw that his elder son was asleep, the last bit of restraint he had managed to keep on his temper seemed to snap and he wasted no time closing the distance he’d kept until now between him and his sons. Grabbing Sam quite literally by the scruff of his neck as he dragged the younger man out the door of their motel room. Shoving his son up against the wall and holding him there with a first curled in the front of Sam’s shirt. His eyes sparking with fury as they glared into his younger son’s.

“I am going to say this only once, boy. Because if I have to repeat it I won’t hesitate to kick your scrawny ass into next week.” John all but growled, giving the boy a shake like he wasn’t all that convinced himself he wouldn’t make good on his threat right now.

“I am your father, god damn it. Dean may be your brother, but he is my _son_! Don’t you dare think that you are the only one who cares about him. And if you ever talk to me, or treat me, like I am a danger to my own son again...”

The elder man took a deep breath. Fighting to reign in his emotions and calm down if only so they wouldn’t draw unwanted attention. Either from passers by or from Dean inside the room.

“I have no intention of giving up on Dean. Ever! If it is the last thing I do on this earth, I’m going to find a way to cure him. But we’ve got a hell of a lot more to worry about right now than that. You know your brother. This is not going to be easy for him, especially when he gets close to changing. The hard part is not going to be keeping him restrained when he turns so he doesn’t go out and kill innocent people. The hard part is going to be keeping him safe from _himself_. Not to mention other hunters if it ever gets out that he was bitten! If he’s even going to make it long enough for us to find a cure, we have to be _together_ on this, Sam. Not fighting each other every step of the way!”

* * *

“What the fuck—“

Sam hadn’t been expecting to be manhandled… literally shoved out the door and slammed back against the wall. He started to fight his father, to push him away, to try to force him to break his tight hold on his clothes. He only quit struggling because of the passersby, but he was furious. As furious as one John Winchester.

As his father shook him in his rage, Sam’s nostrils flared. His fists were balled up, even as he merely used them to prevent his father from pulling his clothes so tight they put too much pressure on his throat.

He half listened to his father’s passionate speech. Whether he knew it or not, his father was as zealous as the next hunter, and that was Sam’s problem with this whole situation. “It'll be hard to keep him _safe from himself_? Why? Huh dad? Why? Because he knows for a fact anything different, anything not human is evil and must be killed? And who taught him that?” He did push back now. “That’s exactly why I’m afraid of what happens to him when and if you figure out there’s nothing you can do to get him back.”

As those words... those fears tripped from his mouth, he felt his gut wrench. He had to believe there would be a solution. Had to. Cause Dean… Dean had to be alright. He just had to.

He took a couple of deep breaths, his chest heaving with the exertion. “Forget everything in the middle… what’s your _last_ resort? What’s plan B if all else fails? _That’s_ what I’m afraid of, because dad… you do what you have to do. You always have… and if you come to the conclusion that he…” He felt tears sting his eyes. “You might do it to ‘help him.’ You might do it to save the world. You might hate yourself for it, but you’d…”

Staring into his father’s haunted and angry eyes, he saw Dean reflected in them. “You’d do it as surely as Dean would do it.” His shoulders started shaking as thoughts of every way he might lose his brother passed his mind. “Let me go,” he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. He needed to get away, he didn’t want his father seeing him like this.

* * *

Sam’s broken words, all of his son’s worst fears laid out on the table between them, wrenched the elder man’s heart. A single tear slipping down John’s cheek before he realized it, and he didn’t care enough to wipe it away. Not when all that was left on this earth he cared about was in danger of falling apart at his feet. His younger son’s question echoing over and over in his head.

_What’s your last resort?_

John didn’t know. He honestly had no clue what his _last_ resort would be. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his sons. _Nothing_. What he might do... to save Dean... some of the possibilities should have probably frightened him. And, yes, some of the possibilities, he might hate himself for... but that wouldn't stop him.

He would bleed for his sons. He would kill for them. He would die for them... The only thing, the _only_ thing he could not imagine doing for his boys, would involve either young man’s blood on his hands.

_Let me go._

John shook his head. No. Never. He wasn’t giving up on Dean. He sure as hell was not going to give up on Sam either. The elder man dragged his son to him, wrapped his arms tightly around the younger man, and refused to let go.

It had been almost longer than John could remember the last time Sam had wanted, or needed, this kind of comfort from him. There was a very good chance that his son would not want it now, either, and if Sam pushed him away, he would let go. But he had to try, because he simply refused to give up.

“I swear, Sam. No matter what it takes, we won’t loose him. You won’t loose him.”

* * *

At first, Sam was stiff and uncomfortable, fighting the instinct to just run away and nurse his own wounds. But his father’s arms were strong, and his words… they offered hope and comfort. But what really got to him was the tears in his father’s eyes and the way his voice broke when he spoke. This was one of those rare moments when his father dropped his masks, dropped his hard taskmaster role, his agendas, and was… was a father. He’d lived for those short, ‘in between” moments, as a child, and he found it was no different now.

Suddenly hugging his father back, uncaring of who saw, he nodded as tears slipped past his eyelids. “Okay dad. We’re gonna save him. We won’t lose him. We won’t.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was late night. Sam had gone out and brought back food and they'd eaten hours ago. They'd even managed to get a little bit into Dean, but hadn't forced him. He was still under the influence of the pain meds and in the grips of a fever. Every once in a while, either Sam or John cooled Dean off with wet compresses and made sure his fever didn't rage out of control.

Eventually, Sam realized that though he was staring at the television, he wasn't really seeing anything. "I think I'm gonna hit the sack," he told his father, getting up and starting to strip to his shorts. The truce was back between them, and it was better. Course Sam was one to overthink things, and he'd gone over their conversation twenty times in his head and realized his father had never quite answered his question about what would be his last resort. But there had been conviction in his voice when he said Dean would be saved, and Sam had to believe, he had to count on that. He would.

As he got into bed next to Dean, he even made a joke. "We'd better enjoy this..." he nodded toward his sleeping brother. "When he starts feeling better, he'd going to be a bear."

It would probably be a long night, and he wouldn't sleep straight through. He'd keep checking on Dean and bring his fever down whenever necessary. Maybe the fever would break soon... God he hoped so.

As he closed his eyes, he unconsciously laid his palm on Dean's chest to monitor him. "Night dad. Night Dean." When was the last time that those words had been the last thing out of his mouth before he went to sleep? It had been a long freakin' time. Still, a smile played on his mouth as he started to fall into sleep.

* * *

 

When Sam announced he was going to bed, John looked up and nodded from the table where he was busy reading through various files on Jacobs computer that Sam had managed to break the password on earlier. The other hunter still hadn’t answered his cell phone or returned to his motel room the last time John had checked, and the elder man had to conclude that he was either a captive with the werewolves as Dean had been… or dead.

John had already called some of his contacts, other hunters, and told them about the werewolf pack. They had agreed to come and help him take care of it.

Of course John had not mentioned anything about Dean. That he had been a captive of the werewolves or that he’d even found his son, and he wouldn’t. At least not until he could come up with a convincing story that wouldn’t make other hunters suspicious of where his son had been or what had been done to him.

Jacobs might be a problem… if the man was even still alive… John guiltily almost wished the other man wasn’t, for Dean’s sake. Which was why John was going through the files on the other hunter’s computer right now. Erasing the photographs and anything that even mentioned Dean. As well as searching to see if there were any clues the other hunter had told anyone else about the werewolves or Dean.

So far it seemed Jacobs had only told him. Luckily no one but he, Sam, and Dean would have any clue what had happened to his son, and John meant to keep it that way.

The elder man smiled and chuckled a little when Sam mentioned his brother’s tendency to be rather… cranky… when he was feeling ill. Though Dean was never ill very often thank god, he was hurt more than ill, much to John’s dismay. But his elder son was never a very good patient even at the best of times. Dean hated being taken care of, always wanting to do things for himself and look after others rather than himself. So he would often push himself too much too quickly once he started feeling ‘better’ if he were sick or wounded, which had made John feel like strangling the boy on more than one occasion.

Though John chose not to point out that Sam was an even worse patient than his brother. The younger boy’s attitude could drive him insane even when his younger son wasn’t ill, so when Sam wasn’t feeling like himself for any reason, it made him absolutely impossible for John to deal with. Thankfully Dean had been more than willing and able to handle his brother when Sam was sick or hurt. The one time that both his sons had been sick at the same time, John had been about ready to attempt an exorcism on both of them. It was either that or put a bullet in his own head just for some peace.

“Good night, son.” John said softly, still smiling a little as he turned down the volume on the television so it would not disturb his boys as they slept and went back to the computer. An hour later, the elder man turned off the TV entirely, shut off the computer and lights before getting into his own bed. A gun loaded with silver bullets placed on the nightstand within easy reach on the nightstand.

***

Dean woke with a start. Gasping in the darkness, his heart beating fast and hard against his ribs. His eyes darting around the room frantically, still partially caught in the grips of the nightmare that had woken him.

Not so much a nightmare, but a memory. More like his worst fear. The day they had decided to make him a member of the ‘pack’. When they had pinned him down no matter how hard he thrashed, as Cassandra bit savagely down on the soft flesh of his thigh, ignoring his screams to stop. Begging for them to simply kill him, anything but that…

He shivered a little at the memory. Or maybe it was from the cold. He felt chilled even though he was sweating and covered to the chest with blankets. His head felt foggy and his throat was dry, and he recognized the feeling of having a fever. Or had. He didn’t feel hot anymore, but he did feel the warm weight of an arm across his chest.

Dean blinked a little. Wondering if he was dreaming now as he turned his head to follow the arm to who it belonged to. Memories that weren’t quite clear trickling through his mind as he did. He remembered Cassandra trying to seduce him, again. Him refusing her, again. He remembered the pain in his stomach after he’d drank the water that had been left for him. Realizing it had been poisoned, knowing he was going to die and almost welcoming it despite the pain.

Then… he thought he’d been dreaming when he saw Sam. His father. Rescued. But he was definitely awake, he didn’t feel that much pain now, and he certainly wasn’t dead. He could hear his father’s snoring in the bed next to his, and Sam… his brother was right beside him. Warm. Alive. Real.

“Sammy…?” Dean whispered, almost hesitantly, as though afraid to shatter the illusion just in case it wasn’t real.

* * *

In a light sleep because he’d been checking on Dean every once in a while, Sam came instantly awake. His mind crowded with worry as he turned on his side and moved his hand up to Dean’s throat, then forehead. He was still a bit warm, but not fiercely feverish like he’d been before they’d cooled him off in the bath.  
  
A little light penetrated through the slats in the shuttered windows, so he could see Dean’s face. “You alright?” It was frustrating, that he couldn’t see whether Dean’s eyes were clear of the effects of fever and drugs. “You should drink some water,” he decided, coming up on one elbow, and stretching across to the nightstand next to Dean, and getting the cup he’d left there for him. “Can you sit up?”

He wanted so badly to hear Dean say he was fine. That everything would be alright. But he was nervous… he knew everything wasn’t, and that there would be a lot to deal with once reality hit Dean. “Dean?” He started to help him sit up, while holding the cup in the other hand.

* * *

 

When Sam’s eyes opened, Dean’s soft voice waking the younger man from an obvious light sleep, the elder man could clearly read the concern in his brother’s eyes. He’d never liked it when Sam worried about him. It wasn’t his little brother’s job to worry about him, after all. But at that moment he honestly couldn’t say he had ever seen a more welcome sight. The younger man’s touch proving him that he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating after all when he felt Sam’s fingers slide up to his neck and brush across his forehead.

A faint smile curved Dean’s lips despite how much like crap he felt right now. Genuine happiness flowing through him so strong he felt almost giddy just looking at his brother.

Dean nodded a little when Sam asked him if he were all right. Maybe he wasn’t, but this was the first time in what felt like forever he could lie and it was almost true. He nodded again when his brother said he should have some water. Starting to push himself up a little, though it wasn’t easy, even with Sam’s help.

His stomach protested the movement, and his arms shook a little from the effort, but he managed to prop himself up a little. His brother moving a couple of pillows behind his back so at least he could lean back and wouldn’t spill the water all over himself as he drank.

From this angle now he could see his sleeping father, and he turned his eyes back to Sam questioning.

“How did you…?” Dean began to ask, his voice trailing off as a hundred different questions suddenly ran through his brain all at the same time. How had they found him? What had happened to the werewolves? Was Sam all right? Was Dad all right? Why was his brother here? Had Sam… been looking for him the whole time he was gone? Had they… had they seen the bite on him? Did they know what the bastards had made him?

The joy he felt at seeing his brother, his father, knowing that he was finally free from the monsters that had tortured him in every sense of the word all these months was short lived. He’d thought he was going to die there. Eventually they would kill him. He’d given up hope on being rescued and now… he realized it didn’t matter because… because it was too late. He was one of them now…

“Sam… I… they…” He whispered in dawning horror, his breath and pulse quickening.

* * *

As various expressions flitted across his brother’s face, Sam could almost see the wheels grinding in Dean’s head. Too soon. To soon for Dean to start worrying.

Setting the cup aside, he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Stop.” Their gazes locked, and he knew Dean’s mind was still spinning with possibilities, with the knowledge of what happened, and that he was considering the consequences. He had to stop him from leaping to the same conclusion he’d thought his father might go to.

“Dean,” he shook him slightly, “just stop. We’re handling this, okay? Dad and I. We didn’t come get you for nothing. It’s not for nothing, so don’t go thinking. Just…” he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find the words that would convince his stubborn brother. “Just don’t think for a little while. Let it alone, and we’ll take care of it, okay?” he nodded toward his dad. “You’re not one of _them._ You won’t be. I swear Dean, we’re gonna fix this. Together. All three of us. Believe.”

* * *

 

Sam's words were soft, but firm at the same time. The hand on his shoulder, grounding, and Dean found he simply couldn't look away from his brother's eyes locked with his own. His brother was so fucking calm. How could he…

Handle this? Fix it? How the hell were they supposed to _fix_ it. He'd been _bitten_!

"Sam… I'm a fucking werewolf! You can't… there's no…"

God…

The reality of it was hitting him hard for perhaps the first time. He was a _werewolf_ and when the full moon came he was going to… Dean could see it. Clear in his mind as though it were happening right now. Changing. Becoming a monster. Attacking his brother. Ripping out Sam's throat with his teeth…

Dean felt his breath speed up even more but none of it seemed to be getting into his lungs. His heart beating against his ribs like a frightened bird beating its wings bloody against its cage. He was shaking. He could feel himself shaking and he couldn't stop it.

* * *

He was losing it. Oh God, Dean was about to lose it, and that would be bad. Once his older brother got something in his head, it was almost impossible to change his mind. He had to nip this in the bud, stop the self loathing before it started.

“You’re not a fucking werewolf, you’re my brother. Dean!” he gripped his shoulder tighter, wanted to force him to listen... to believe. He was prepared to argue, to lecture, to talk to him until morning if necessary until he drove away all of Dean’s doubts, but suddenly he started to feel the tremors.

Searching the depths of Dean’s greens, he saw flicker of fear. The weight of the world had settled on Dean’s shoulders as hard as they had earlier on Sam’s. Well dad had surprisingly given him what he needed, and it was his turn now.

“Come here.” Without waiting for Dean to move, Sam put his strong arms around his brother and drew him close, holding him so tight it had to be hard to breath. Even if he tried to pull away, he was no more going to let go of Dean, than his father had let him go earlier in the hall. “We’re going to handle this Dean, together. You want to know the worst case scenario? I fucking tie your ass down around the full moon, that’s it. I talked to dad about it already. Better case? We’re looking for a solution, a reversal. There’s material out there, and we’re chasing it down.”

Okay, he was lying, but some lies were necessary. Besides, tomorrow he’d start some serious research and there had to be something... there had to... and he’d find it, if took him the rest of his life, he’d find it. “Dean, say something. Tell me you’ll let us handle this. Tell me you won’t pull anything crazy,” he said, his voice getting husky with emotion. This was all wrong... all wrong, his brother... his ‘look the world in the eye and tell it to fuck itself’ brother... afraid and shaking like a leaf.

* * *

 

Suddenly Dean found himself embraced within warm strong arms, held securely against his brother's broad chest, and all of his thoughts, his fears, spiraling out of control, abruptly came to a screeching halt.

It wasn't comfortable. Not when Sam was holding him almost too tightly. The younger man's arms putting an uncomfortable pressure against his bruised back, but Dean didn't try to pull away. At least, not at first. Surprised perhaps by the unexpected display of affection neither of them had really indulged in. Even when they were kids.

Or maybe surprised by his own reaction to the unexpected hug. How warm and… safe… his baby brother's arms around him felt right now. Like the rest of the world could just go to hell in a hand basket and nothing would touch him, them, as long as they stayed like this.

It was probably those uncharacteristically emo thoughts, especially coming from him, that broke his momentary paralysis, and he finally began trying to pull back. To untangle himself from the younger man's embrace. Part of him feeling that he would somehow… taint his brother by touch alone, and Sam had to let go of him right the fuck now… but Sam simply wasn't letting go. Whispering words of reassurance into his ear. Promising him things… he knew weren't true, but he wanted to believe them so fucking bad.

And before he knew it, he was not only relaxing into the embrace, but his own arms were wrapping around the younger man, holding onto Sam just as tightly as his brother was holding onto him. Pressing his face into the younger man's neck, taking deep breaths, and ordering himself to calm the fuck down. At least so he could stop shaking like a kid in the dark.

"You're such a girl…" Dean finally muttered. More to break up the tension that felt like it was choking him, than anything else. Considering he didn't even release his brother after he said the words.

* * *

Even when Dean tried to struggle out of his grasp, Sam held on. A part him thought he was doing this for his brother, but another part of him questioned whether it was because he needed this just as much. He needed to know Dean wouldn’t do something stupid or crazy, or both.

And then it all changed, and Dean was returning the hug. Uncharacteristic... should be scary... but it wasn’t. Relief flowed through Sam who merely tightened his grip and told Dean again it would be alright.

The accusation made him choke on a laugh, but it didn’t make him forget. “Fine... fine, I’m a girl and you’re still juvenile. Make your promise.” He pulled away only enough to look Dean in the eye. “Please.“ He whispered the last, seeking that connection they’d had as kids and relying on his brother’s ability to see this was important.

* * *

 

His brother's almost laugh and reply made Dean chuckle softly. It was a harsh sound, but it wasn't forced. Not completely anyway. But then suddenly Sam was pulling back, and the elder man felt an irrational stab of fear he wanted to kick himself for, but his brother didn't let go of him. Drew away only far enough to look into his eyes, Sam's eyes begging him as much as his brother's soft plea.

_Don't pull anything crazy._ That was what the younger man had said. Almost as though his brother had known the thoughts in his head even before they had fully formed for himself to recognize. Dean's eyes flickered briefly over to their father and then back to Sam. It wasn't 'crazy'. If his father or brother wouldn't do what needed to be done...

But Sam was asking him not to, begging him even, to let Sam and Dad 'handle' it. To try to find a 'cure' for him even though they all knew none existed, and... he couldn't live like this. A monster. The risk he might get loose and kill innocent people. That he might kill his father... brother... wake up the next day with their blood on his hands...

He could see in his brother's eyes that Sam simply wouldn't listen to him if he tried to explain that and, frankly, Dean didn't want to argue with him about it. Not now, at least.

Best case scenario... He had three weeks... give or take, he wasn't even sure what day it was now... before the full moon. Before he would turn and one way or another he wasn't going to let that happen. But he had three weeks to live. To spend with his family, with his brother, and he could be selfish for once couldn't he? Put off till then what had to be done... right?

"I won't do anything 'crazy', all right? I promise. Now get off me, bitch." Dean finally said, feigning annoyance at the extended chick flick moment. It wasn't the truth and it wasn't a lie either, but it was what his brother wanted to hear, so he said it.

* * *

He believed Dean. He believed he wasn’t lying, that he wasn’t appeasing, that he meant it. A surge of pure joy and relief had Sam grinning, and through closed teeth, responding with a distinct, “jerk.”

He let Dean go and rearranged the pillows, watching him under his lashes. In the dark, he couldn’t see Dean’s pallor. Though he looked a bit gaunt, for the most part, he looked normal. It would be different in the light of day though, he realized that. The bruises would be visible, and the other evidence of the torture he’d been through would be there for all to see.

“What did they do to you?” he asked softly, pushing Dean back to force him to at least rest. Just for a minute, a steely look entered his eyes, so eerily like his father’s.

* * *

 

If he felt just the slightest bit guilty seeing his brother's relief to his words, Dean didn't admit it to himself. Just like he wouldn't admit that he missed the feeling of the younger man's arms around him almost as soon as Sam let him go. Or how he let his brother fuss over his pillows and crap because he didn't feel like fighting with the younger man right now, and not because he was simply feeling too tired and drained to put up that fight. Letting his brother press him back down into a reclining position without so much as a token protest.

Dean was a little surprised by his brother's question. Though he raised an eyebrow more at the expression on the younger man's face that Sam probably didn't even realize that he could see, when his brother probably could barely make out his face.

He wondered if Sam was asking out of 'curiosity', or because he wanted to make sure that Dean wasn't going to die on him in the middle of the night from something he didn't know about. If it was just the former, he would have told Sam firmly that he didn't want to talk about it, and that would be the end of it. But if it was the latter, he knew his brother would just persist and nag him, and again, Dean really didn't have the strength to argue with him.

He sighed softly, resigned.

"They beat me pretty good for trying to escape not long ago. Knocked me in head a little, but I don't think they did any damage." Dean said matter-of-factly, offering his brother a slightly forced grin before he continued. "That wasn't out of the ordinary though, they made sure never to do permanent damage. The bitch wouldn't let them…"

Dean frowned a little at his own words, then sighed. Rubbing his stomach and wincing a little just how tender and sore it felt. That part hadn't been a dream after all either…

"They put something in my water, but I didn't drink all of it. Bitch. Word to the wise, Sammy, werewolf chicks don't take 'no' for an answer very well."

* * *

Of course he’d known that Dean had been beaten, he was wearing the signs of it in color... yellow, red, and blue all over his body. Fucking bastard werewolves. Though Sam tried not to imagine the pain that Dean went through, his mind was ahead of him, filling in the blanks with images of Dean shackled in that room and tortured within and inch of is life, nursed back, and tortured again. It tore him up inside... for so many reasons, but mostly for not being there.

“Bitch. Werewolf bitch,” he echoed, imagining a bitter old woman who would hate Dean’s attitude and make him pay for his disrespect. Not that anything like a beating would stop Dean.

Turning his face toward Dean, he saw him rubbing his stomach. “If they wanted to kill you, why’d they bother with poison... why not just rip your throat out.” He tensed at the thought that it could have gone that way. His jaw hurt from the way he was unconsciously gritting his teeth. “That sounds like someone with a personal axe to grind. You must really have given her a titty twister.”

Other questions welled up in his mind. Ones he was almost afraid to give voice to. “Dean.” He faltered, licked his lips and got the courage to continue. “We saw pictures. Of a... I don’t know, looked like a pig pen. There were dead people and... you.” He didn’t mention the weapon in Dean’s hand, or the blood.

* * *

 

Sam’s words gave Dean a brief pause because he honestly hadn’t thought of that. If Cassandra had really wanted him dead she could have easily done it herself right then and there. Snapped his neck with a flick of her wrist or, as his brother had helpfully pointed out, ripped out his throat. Maybe she had just wanted him to suffer slowly… or maybe there was another reason…

Dean didn’t really think about it too deeply. Mostly because it didn’t much matter now, and because his brother’s next words had him laughing hard, and oh that hurt his stomach bad, but it also felt good too.

He stifled his laughter behind his hand quickly however because he didn’t want to wake up their father. Even though it would be good to see and talk to the older man again, Dean was jealous of his time alone with his brother right now. Maybe that was a little selfish of him, but he hadn’t seen Sam in so long… he just wanted a little bit more time alone with him.

His brother’s question regarding the pens however made the smile slip from Dean’s face entirely and he paled a little. Dad and his brother had seen… photographs? Where had they gotten photographs, Dean almost wanted to ask, but he still hadn’t yet gotten over the fact that Sam and their father had _seen_ him in the pens. If there was one thing he could have wished that his brother and dad never knew about what had happened to him there, that would have been it. He certainly would have never volunteered the information. Now he had no choice…

Dean swallowed hard and looked away from his brother. Staring at a corner as shame threatened to strangle him. His voice barely louder than a whisper when he finally started to speak.

“When they first… brought me there. There were about ten of us all together. They… they liked to hold… games. Fights. To see which one of us were the… strongest. The ones they wanted to make a part of the pack…” Dean swallowed again, still refusing to meet his brother’s eyes, his voice shaking a little as he remembered the blood on his hands. The blood he’d been forced to spill because if he hadn’t, he would have been killed, either by the werewolves or the other fighters. “They killed anyone who refused to fight. They made us fight… until only one of us was alive…”

“I’m sorry, Sammy…” He finally whispered brokenly.

* * *

Sam had no idea why Dean laughed, but he sure as hell regretted his question about the pen when the laughter died. The room went ominously silent, and Sam’s heart dropped to his stomach. He tensed, and searched Dean’s face, knowing his brother was fighting an internal battle.

When Dean finally spoke, Sam fought the urge to close his eyes against the waves of shame and guilt emanating from his brother as he haltingly described what he’d been made to do. Sam wasn’t stupid, nor was their father, and they’d both independently reached conclusions that were at least close to the horrendous reality Dean described. Only... it was different when someone put it to words.

Dean’s apology hit Sam with the force of an unstoppable train.

“No! Look at me.” When his brother refused to, Sam rolled over slightly, bracing is weight on his hands on either sides of Dean’s body and looking him straight in the eyes. “You listen to me. You did what you had to, and you don’t apologize to me for that, not ever. If you’d died... if you’d let yourself get killed... THEN you’d owe me an apology.”

Just the thought of standing at his brother’s grave brought tears to his eyes, and he was glad about the darkness surrounding them, though he could do nothing about the way his voice lowered an octave. “I’d fucking follow you to hell if I had to and kick your ass if you had, you know that?” It was a demand, more than a question. And whether his brother liked it or not, he was already lowering himself down to give him another strong hug. "Don't you ever go thinking anything like that."

* * *

 

Sam ordered him to look at him, but Dean simply couldn’t. Not after telling his brother how he’d killed people… _people_ , normal people damn it. Not monsters. Not possessed. Just people who’d been unfortunate enough to get caught by a bunch of sick twisted werewolves.

Maybe he hadn’t been given a choice… no, he’d _had_ a choice. The choice between living or dying. Killing or be killed. And he’d chosen to live… and right now Dean couldn’t help thinking that he’d made the wrong fucking choice.

But then suddenly Sam was leaning over him, his arms braced on either side of his body, and so close they were practically chest to chest, and Sam wasn’t giving him a choice but to look at him. Not giving him a choice but to listen. His brother not forgiving him for what he’d done, instead telling him he had nothing to be sorry for in the first place.

A part of Dean wanted to argue, to tell his brother that just because he had done what he ‘had’ to, to survive, didn’t make it _right_ or absolve him of his crime. But he was having a hard time forming thoughts much less words with his brother so fucking close.

So close Sam’s eyes, filled with tears, was practically all he could see. His voice thick with emotion, and so close he could feel the heat of his brother’s body washing over his in waves. His scent, _god_ Sam’s scent… Every breath he took that was all he could smell, and it was more intoxicating than anything he’d ever smelled or tasted before in his life, and he felt drunk with it.

His hands came up to rest on his brother’s shoulders of their own will when the younger man shifted closer. His brother’s _bare_ shoulders, he realized absently because Sam wasn’t wearing a shirt and neither was Dean, and that wasn’t something he should really be _noticing_ , at least not noticing like it mattered, but it did fucking matter. Especially when Dean found himself wanting to pull his brother even closer, tangle his hands in the younger man’s hair, and just cover himself in his scent. His taste…

_That_ seemed to finally wake Dean out of his stupor, enough to at least push back on his brother’s shoulders, stopping his brother before Sam could fucking hug him again. His brain swimming with confusion as he practically stuttered, “Christ, dude. Enough with the friggen chick flick hugs…” Trying to brush the moment aside and to ignore just how fast his heart was beating in his chest, not to mention the less than pure reasons why.

* * *

Sam winced at the gruff tone and words. Right, just because Dean had opened up earlier didn’t mean he would again. And maybe he did blame Sam just a little, for not being there. Not that he could blame him at all... not when he blamed himself.

A single tear rolled down his cheek and he pulled himself up to a sitting position. Looking away, at the wall across the room, he ran his hand over his face. “Alright... alright Dean. No more. But if you want to talk...” he swallowed over the painfully hard lump in his throat. “Just know, I meant every word I said.”

He didn’t know why, but suddenly he felt like crying. Maybe it was all of the emotions of the day crashing down on him again. Maybe it was seeing his big brother in pain, not only the physical sort, but the sort that could tear him up inside. Maybe it was guilt, whatever it was... he had to hold it together. He just had to.

Unable to say anything more without giving himself away and adding to Dean’s worries, he slowly lay back and closed his eyes. He wanted to hold Dean, he wanted to put his hand on him, make sure he would notice changes in temperature... anything that he needed, but he didn’t. He just decided he’d sleep lightly, or just pretend... cause nothing was more important than Dean's welfare. Nothing.

* * *

 

Sam obviously had no idea that Dean had seen the tear that had rolled down the younger man's cheek. Obviously had no idea that Dean's eyes were now much keener in the dark than a 'normal' persons, or his brother never would have let him see him cry. But Dean did see, and he felt like he'd been kicked in the gut.

God, as though he didn't feel guilt ridden enough already. Well, at least his less than pure thoughts were pretty much over now. Now he just felt like the world's biggest asshole.

He hadn't meant to hurt Sam's feelings, he just…

Fuck, he must be more exhausted than he realized. He had to be for getting so emotional in the first place… distracted… by his brother's scent, his half nakedness… Maybe sleep really was the best option right now before he said or did anything else stupid, but Sam…

Sam wasn't looking at him anymore. He was laying down, closing his eyes, feigning sleep, and Dean could practically feel the misery rolling off of him in waves. Whatever Dean might be feeling inside was nothing compared to that. He'd only ever cared about whether or not Sam was happy, and his brother definitely wasn't happy right now.

Fuck… if he really wanted a friggen hug that badly…

Dean sighed softly and rolled over carefully in the bed, facing the younger man. Hesitating only a moment before slipping his arms around his brother for a quick hug. Just a quick hug so Sam would stop fucking pouting. He'd never admit that maybe, just maybe, it would make him feel better too.

* * *

Sam felt Dean moving around, but he didn’t stir. He needed to get a hold of his emotions, something he was finding was hard to do. And then, out of the blue, Dean was freakin’ hugging him. Instantly, he put his arm around his brother and held him in place, unconsciously preventing him from pulling away.

Did this make him feel any better? Not really. Not this time around. All he really wanted right now was to get it out of his system, just cry it out and never think about it again. But he couldn’t, not here... not like this.

To be honest, he didn’t even know what the hug was about. He’d wanted to comfort his brother, but he had a gut feeling this wasn’t about Dean. That it was Dean appeasing him, or something, which didn’t sit well with him at all.

Even though he wanted desperately to say something, Sam managed to utter only something unintelligible against the side of Dean’s throat before letting him go. If he was lucky, Dean would crack a joke and then he could pretend to laugh and go to sleep.

* * *

 

His brother’s arms came up around him almost the second Dean’s arms wrapped around the younger man. Holding him tightly for a few moments before letting go, but Sam remained about as stiff as a plank of wood in the embrace. As though Dean might as well not have even made the effort at all to make him feel better, and the elder man frowned.

Damn it, his brother could be such a fucking _girl_ sometimes!

Dean grumbled several curses under his breath, but he didn’t roll over back to his own side of the bed like he probably should have. Instead pressing himself even closer to the younger man. Practically laying half on top of him as hugged his brother even tighter.

Cuddling. Yes, _cuddling_ against his little brother and staying there, making himself comfortable. Resting his head in the crook where his brother’s shoulder met his neck with a sigh.

“If you think I’m giving you a kiss goodnight, you’ve got another thing coming.” Dean mumbled against his brother’s chest. His fingers ghosting lightly over the skin near his brother’s ribs. Threatening to begin tickling if the younger man didn’t at least crack a smile.

“Bitch.” He whispered affectionately.

* * *

“Dean!” Sam caught Dean’s hand, gripping it tight to stop him from following through. They both knew that Sam couldn’t stand being tickled, and he’d shout... and then they’d have to deal with Dad’s wrath... and yeah, that was dad with a capital D. He’d probably leave Dean alone and focus it all on Sam, and say he ought to know better.

Eyes still closed, he shook his head and gave a choked laugh. Yeah, maybe he was a bitch. And maybe he was a bit selfish, but it felt good to have Dean close. It kinda reminded him of old times, of how Dean could calm him when he was afraid or angry. Okay, half the time Dean was the reason he’d gotten mad or angry, but still...

Swallowing hard, he folded his arm over Dean and leaned his cheek against his forehead. Maybe words weren’t necessary. Maybe this was enough... this was Dean’s way of telling him that they’d work together and make sure everything... everything was okay.

Slowly, all of his tension melted away. He even managed a joke himself. “Dude... I hope you don’t drool anymore, cause ewww...”

* * *

 

Dean grinned, quite pleased with himself. Chuckling softly when the younger man grabbed his hand to stop his ‘attack’ before it could truly begin. They both knew that Dean wasn’t above playing dirty to get what he wanted.

Hearing his brother’s soft answering laugh and feeling Sam’s arm slip around him once more, Dean felt content. Yeah, maybe life royally sucked right now, and even that was an understatement. But right now, this was all that mattered. Chick flick moment, or not, this was exactly where Dean wanted to be right now.

Feeling the younger man’s soft breath tickling his hair. Hearing Sam’s strong steady heartbeat beneath his ear. Dean closed his eyes with a sigh, letting himself relax even more against his brother. He felt exhausted. Even though he’d only really been awake for a few minutes, they had been draining and emotional, and he felt himself drifting off even before he heard the younger man’s soft teasing joke.

The elder man only smiled, and if he snuggled just a little closer to his brother and brushed a soft kiss near the younger man’s collar bone, then he’d never admit it in the morning.

***

_His arousal was hot and heavy. Aching, and he couldn’t help rubbing it against the hard warm body beneath him trying to relieve some of the pressure. Moaning against soft sweat slicked skin that his tongue eagerly darted out to taste. Dancing around a peaked nipple that hardened even more beneath his tongue. His fingers dancing across a wide broad chest, slowly trailing down quivering muscular abs and then around and up the length of a strong back._

Dean moaned again against the hot flesh he tasted. Nipping lightly as he rocked his hips more firmly against the other man’s. Feeling an answering heat, practically burning, branding alongside his own. Leaving scalding wet trails of pleasure across the flesh of both their stomachs.

He licked, nipped, and sucked a wet path up the length of his lover’s body. Drowning in the other man’s taste. His scent. Purring in the back of his throat as he bit down hard at the junction of his neck. Not enough to break the skin but definitely enough to bruise. Leaving a mark that would last for days. His passion only growing when the body beneath him bucked, beautiful moans urging him on in the sweetest way as his lips finally found his lovers, and he swallowed them. Savoring the vibrations against his tongue like he savored everything else.

He was close. So close… low purrs became almost growls as he thrust harder, grinding their hips together. Clutching the younger man to him even tighter. Hearing his name whispered over and over.

Dean… Dean…

‘Sammy…’ He whispered back, thrusting hard one last time with a cry as he came.  



	4. Chapter 4

Sam slept far sounder than he should have. He did wake up a couple of times in the night, a bit disoriented and either wondering what the weight on him was or thinking for a sec or two that he was home with Jess. And then the events of the last twenty four hours would come crashing down, and he'd find himself holding tight to Dean.

He'd almost lost him. Lost Dean forever. And they weren't home free yet.

No, he refused to buy into any negative thoughts. His brother was safe. He'd be nursed to good health. They'd find some way to combat this werewolf thing, and then everything would be back to normal.

Back to normal. What did that mean, anyway? Him back at school… them out there putting their lives at risk? Could he once again put aside thoughts and worries about them?

Letting out a heavy sigh, Sam closed his eyes. He was keenly aware of how unusual it might look, the way they were sleeping, and he was damned determined to wake early before his father saw them. At the same time, he couldn't deny that he needed the comfort Dean was giving him, and he had to believe Dean needed it to… or he'd have moved away the instant Sam fell asleep. A small smile played across his lips as he thought back to the kiss Dean had ghosted across his collar bone before going to sleep. He had to have still been loopy on the drugs… had to.

 

*

The instant he heard Dean call his name in an anguished tone, Sam's eyes fluttered open. "What? What do you need?"

There was no answer. It only scared him for a moment, until he realized Dean was still asleep. His heart was beating hard enough for Sam to feel it against his chest, and his breaths were a bit shallow and fast… but that was all good, signs that he was alive.

Damn, just when had Dean got practically on top of him? What a bed hog. Insults started flying around in Sam's mind until he shifted his leg and felt something hard press into his thigh. Great… Dean had a stiffy. And he was practically naked… okay they both were. A little panic flooded his system… nothing he couldn't handle.

Heat warmed his cheeks, and he gave an uncomfortably dry cough. Yeah… looked like he was getting morning wood too… which was perfectly _normal_ because it was morning. What wasn't so normal was the way he was all tangled up with Dean. Very not normal, especially in the light of day.

A quick glance at his dad's bed showed him that his father was still asleep. God… he needed to get free, but looking down at Dean's now perfectly relaxed features, he found himself a bit reluctant. Okay, that was just dumb.

Slowly, he shifted both their bodies, and rolled Dean on his back. Just like that, he sensed Dean waking when he was still leaning over him. "Dude… you kissed me," he whispered.

He was smirking slightly, and he knew Dean was confused and would probably swear up and down that he was a liar, or it was wishful thinking or something. But Sam was sure, and had to tease. Old habits died hard. "Yeah… yeah you did. You told me you weren't gonna, and then… bam… right here…" Sam slid his index finger across his collar bone.

* * *

Dean began mumbling sleepy protests the moment his warm soft pillow began to move beneath him. He wasn’t ready to wake up, damn it. He was comfortable, more than comfortable, and he was having the best dream. So he clung to his pillow tightly. Burrowing closer to the warmth it offered. Rubbing the pleasant ache between his legs against a hard muscled thigh.

_Oh that felt good…_ Came the sleepy thought, and he almost moaned as he shifted, still more asleep than awake, against the body practically laying underneath them. However the moan instantly changed to a soft squawk of protest when he was unceremoniously rolled over onto his back. Forcing him more awake than he really wanted to be right now, damn it.

Dean opened his eyes and blinked blearily up at his brother. Licking dry lips as his brain tried to reshuffle memories of dreams, reality, and memories into some semblance of order.

Sam was hovering over him. Looking down at him. Close enough that he could still feel his brother’s heat washing over him, the boy was a fucking furnace, and he just wanted to wrap his arms around the younger man and drag him back down where he belonged so Dean could go back to sleep. But his brother’s words made his brow furrow in confusion as they filtered past the veil of sleepiness muddling his thoughts. Recalling images from his dream. The feel of his brother’s body beneath his hands. The younger man’s taste against his tongue. His lips…

Sam’s lips…

Dean’s eyes opened wide. Suddenly very much awake like he’d just been doused with ice water. But rather than cold, heat flooded through his cheeks, spreading down his whole body, so hot it was a wonder he didn’t spontaneously combust.

“I did not!” He immediately protested, his voice embarrassingly an octave or two higher than it normally was and cracking a little like he was still going through puberty.

* * *

Sam openly laughed at him, shaking his head. "Yeah you did, why would I make this shit up?" He hadn't seen his brother blush in… hell, he didn't think he'd EVER seen Dean blush before. "You can deny it if you want but this…" he dragged his knuckles across Dean's cheek, "this isn't fever."

Still chuckling, he threw one long leg over Dean and climbed out of his side of the bed, without touching him. Short cuts ruled, and he needed to go. Glancing over his shoulder at his father, he noticed signs that he was waking. If he was lucky, he'd be caught up with Dean's recovery and they wouldn't have to address the noise they'd made. Well… that Dean had made.

Stretching and rotating the shoulder Dean had practically paralyzed, he went into the bathroom and closed the door. If he knew how to whistle, he'd be doing it now. Wasn't every day he was able to silence one Dean Winchester. And yeah, the dude was still weak and injured, but Sam would get his victories where he could.

*

Ten minutes later, Sam emerged to find his dad had pulled up a chair and was talking to Dean. "Mornin'" he said, acknowledging his father's presence. He could tell his dad was … well if not happy, then relieved. The man was too much of a realist.

"He looks good, doesn't he? Especially the rosy cheeks, but no fever." Sam didn't even look at his brother as he made one last dig and reached for his jeans.

* * *

When Sam laughed at him, looking about as smug as possible, Dean had serious thoughts about punching the younger man. Or at least make some kind of come back or smart ass remark… something… anything. Of course that was before his brother brushed his knuckles across his cheek and the elder man forgot how to speak.

Dean swallowed hard. No… no, definitely not a fever. What the fuck!

But he pretty much forgot how to breathe as well as his brother climbed over him. His eyes trailing after the younger man as Sam walked to the bathroom. His brother stretching along the way, and Dean couldn’t help but watch with rapt attention the play of muscles along Sam’s shoulders and back. His tongue darting out to lick his dry lips…

Dean tore his eyes away staring at the ceiling, suddenly painfully aware of his arousal, and what the fuck! He was _not_ hard because he had been dreaming about his baby brother! And he had _not_ just been ogling the younger man’s well toned body!

At the sound of the mattress in the other bed shifting, Dean turned his head to look at his father who was now sitting up in bed wide awake. But rather than the irritated expression Dean had almost expected for having woke the elder man up so early, when John’s eyes met his he was surprised by the depths of emotion he saw there. The deep relief he saw in his father’s eyes left him a little speechless.

His father got up and crossed the small distance between the two beds. Dragging a chair to sit next to him beside the bed.

“Hey Dean, how are you feeling?” His father asked, and for a moment the younger man couldn’t answer. He just didn’t know how to answer. Maybe on some level he had expected… His father had to have known what had been done to him, and maybe Dean had expected some measure of disgust from the elder man. Now that Dean was one of the things they usually hunted, he expected his father to look at him differently.

The elder man’s smile faltered a when Dean didn’t answer, and leaned forward. Looking even more concerned, reaching out to place a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“Dean? Are you in pain?”

The question brought Dean out of his momentary daze and he shook his head.

“No, Dad. Just a little sore. I’m fine…” He said, though they both knew Dean was lying. He was anything but ‘fine’.

When Sam emerged from the bathroom they both turned their heads to look at the younger man, and John nodded. Giving a slight smile to his son’s greeting, though his eyes remained worried even though he had to agree with the younger man’s words. Dean did look much better. Physically at least.

Though the elder man had to raise an eyebrow at the ‘rosy cheeks’ comment, but thought he understood better when Dean responded to his brother’s comment by throwing a pillow at the younger man’s head. John couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“Sam, why don’t you take some cash from my wallet and go get us some coffee. Maybe Dean will feel like having some breakfast, too?” John suggested, before any true bickering could break out between his boys, though to be honest, it wouldn’t have bothered him one bit. It had been so long since they had been together like this. He never imagined how good it would feel to see his boys together again, being brothers again, even though the circumstances were less than ideal.

* * *

Reminding himself that his brother wasn’t completely well, Sam only just resisted tossing the damn pillow back. Instead, he dropped it onto the other bed and started getting dressed. Then his dad asked him to get them breakfast, and Sam did a double take.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked slowly, first searching his father’s face, then Dean’s. He remembered only too well how close they were, how many secrets they’d had between them when he was growing up. Sure things had changed when he was older, but he never got over the feeling that they hid things from him. It bugged him to hell back then. Now it scared him. What if it was about the bite… what if they were making plans without him?

He took a deep breath and steeled himself against his dad’s displeasure. “If you’re talking business…” his gaze briefly fell on the region of Dean’s thigh, though covered by a sheet. “I want to be here. Besides, I really should change the bandages and check…”

* * *

John sighed softly, stomping down on the slight hurt and frustration he felt at Sam’s question and the fact that his younger son still didn’t quite trust him yet. Thinking he and Dean were talking behind his back.

But, that was his own fault as well. They had hid many things from Sam in the past, for his younger son’s own good, maybe, but maybe it had been a mistake. Especially now, because he knew just how hard he was going to have to work on earning back Sam’s trust.

But John was determined to do it. He and Sam were on the same side on this, after all. They were both determined to help Dean. That was what really mattered.

“You’re not interrupting anything, Sam. Dean and I were just talking.” The elder man replied calmly, glancing at Dean, before looking back to his younger son.

“I’ll take care of his bandages while you’re gone. We can talk about anything else once you get back. All right?” John reassured.

* * *

Sam searched his dad’s face for answers. As always, the man behind the eyes was a big mystery to him. How could he read his brother like a book, and just… Okay, he was being paranoid maybe. They were just talking. Just like he and Dean had some time to talk, his dad and Dean should be able to do that as well. He nodded and answered, “Okay.” He might as well have said ‘deal,’ because that’s what his tone implied.

He didn’t get his dad’s wallet though, knowing he had enough to cover breakfast. In a few strides, he was out the door and heading to the diner across the street. Over the next few days, he was gonna get to know these people real well, he thought as he put in his order. Coffee for all three of them, oatmeal for Dean – even if he bitched about it, and two breakfast burritos.

After paying, Sam went to the door and phoned Jess. He missed her and needed to tell her they’d found Dean. Explaining why he might not be back for a while would be a bit hard. Fuck.. he hated lying to her, but he’d have to say that Dean was having memory issues or something…

Letting out a deep breath, he dialed, keeping an eye on the counter so he’d know when his order was ready.

* * *

Dean listened to the exchange between his father and brother in silence with a kind of stunned wonderment. Who could blame him after all? The last time the two men had been in the same room together had been the night Sam left for college, and he’d had to literally stand between the two men to keep them from throwing punches at each other or worse.

It wasn’t as though Dean thought they would just pick up that argument right where they left off. But the way the two had screamed at each other that night, he almost never would have believed another civil word would ever pass between them.

It was still a little hard to believe they had come to rescue him, both of them, and not killed each other first in the process. And not only were they talking to each other like civil human beings, but for the first time that Dean could recall in years, Sam actually _did_ what his father told him without protest or question. Alright, he had questioned a little, but not in the rebellious way Sam had during most of his teenage years, and his Dad didn’t get angry and turn into an angry drill sergeant yelling at one of his soldiers for questioning his orders.

It was… odd… but in a good way. Dean could only hope this truce would last. That after he was… gone… his father and brother wouldn’t go back to hating each other. If there was one thing Dean wanted to make sure of before the end, that was it.

Dean remained silent as he watched Sam leave the room, and Dad got up and went over to the duffel that the younger man recognized containing their first aid supplies. Gathering what he would need to change his bandages, and Dean figured this was as good a time as any to really talk to the older man with his brother gone.

“Dad?” The younger man asked, almost cautiously, and his father made a sound indicating he was listening. Dean took a deep breath.

“You know I’ve… been bitten. I’m going to turn… in less than a month. I know Sammy can’t… won’t… He thinks he can save me, or something. But we know that’s not possible, and I was hoping you’d… help me… before…” Dean said cautiously, struggling with his words because how often did you ask your father to kill you?

John shopped what he was doing abruptly and turned around. A hard look in his eyes, but also one of pain that almost made Dean flinch seeing it. Dean opened his mouth again, but the elder man approached the bed again, and cut him off abruptly before he could speak.

“Stop! Don’t say another word. Listen to me. You are _not_ going to just giving up. Your brother is not giving up on you, I’m not giving up on you, so you sure as hell are not allowed to give up on yourself.” John said firmly, and Dean was too stunned to utter a sound. The elder man put a hand on his son’s shoulder, speaking slowly and clearly, making sure Dean heard and understood every single word.

“You are my son. You are not a monster. We aren’t going to let you become one. We’re going to help you. We’re _not_ going to _kill_ you. Understand me?”

“Dad…”

“ _Understand_ me?”

Dean swallowed and nodded.

“Yes, sir…”

John gave his son a tight smile and squeezed his shoulder again before releasing him and straightening.

“We’ll get through this, son. You, me, and Sam. We’ll find a way.” The older man reassured before he went back to what he was doing, gathering clean bandages, a bowl of warm water, clean cloths, and anything else he would need to tend to Dean’s wounds. When he returned to the bed, he laid everything out on the table then helped him turn around onto his stomach so he could take a look at the heavy bruising and cuts on his back first. Dean simply laid there, too stunned to speak, despite his father’s confident words, his heart was full of fear and uncertainty.

* * *

Sam gave two sharp knocks before opening the door. He'd received plenty of lectured on not sneaking up on his father, never mind that dad had sneaked into his home at college. Yeah, plenty of 'do as I say not as I do, there.'.

"Hey," he looked the two men over as he walked in and dropped the bags of food on the table. Pulling the coffee cups out of the holder, he brought two over to his dad and brother, then got his own.

For someone who didn't love it when people hovered over him, Sam did a pretty good job hovering over his dad as his dad cleaned Dean's wound. It wasn't as if he hadn't learned everything about taking care of injuries from the guy, and yet he couldn't help watching like a hawk. Sometimes his gaze would slide up Dean's body to the bruises on his stomach, and then his mouth would go hard and flat. Little did he realize it, but his nostrils flared at the though of what they'd done to him.

He shifted his weight from leg to leg, anxious to start his research on werewolves and potential counters or cures. He'd been thinking about it a bit last night, and now on his way back to the room. But there was something else on his mind too. He cleared his throat. "Any word on the pack... or Jacobs?"

* * *

His dad was just as careful and efficient as always while tending to his wounds. By the time Sam returned, John had finished tending to the wounds on his back, arms, and chest, and was now tending to the infected bite on Dean’s inner thigh.

The younger man looked up at his brother’s knocks, and offered Sam a half grimace/ smile as he took the offered cup of coffee but didn’t drink any of it. Knowing his queasy stomach wouldn’t be able to handle it right now.

Their father also looking up from his task only long enough to take the offered cup from Sam as well with a nod of thanks, taking a small sip before setting it aside on the table. Returning his attention immediately after to Dean’s leg as he worked on draining the infection from the wound.

The older man was at least as good as any emergency room doctor, or field surgeon, in Dean’s opinion. Probably a good thing, considering going to the hospital emergency room often wasn’t a solution in their line of work if one of them was hurt.

His father had stitched up countless wounds, on him and Sam as well as himself with only a bottle of jack to numb the pain. He’d reset Dean’s broken bones, more than once. The older man had even preformed an emergency blood transfusion between him and his brother once after a really bad hunt because he and Sam shared the same blood type. So Dean had absolutely no doubt of the older man’s abilities.

But as he watched his brother watching their father like a hawk, Dean couldn’t help but wish it was Sam’s hands on him instead. Not that his Dad wasn’t trying to be gentle, but it still hurt like a god damn bitch. And when Sam had done this last night it hadn’t hurt nearly as bad… course that could have been due to the heavy drugs he was on, more than anything, but he still wished it was his brother’s hands on him instead of their father’s.

“No, still no word from Jacobs.” John answered Sam’s question without looking up. Spreading some antibiotic cream, that would also help dull the pain, on the wound once he was finished cleaning it. He felt Dean’s tense muscles begin to relax as it worked quickly, and he offered his elder son a reassuring smile.

“I called some hunters last night. They’re going to come and help me deal with the rest of the pack. They should be here within another day or two.” John went on as he finished taping some gauze over the wound to keep it as clean as possible. Once he was finished he wiped off his hands on a nearby towel. Looking back at Sam.

“During that time, I want you and Dean to lay low. I didn’t tell them we found him there, and I’m not going to. The last thing we need are the wrong kinds of questions they’ll ask. In a few weeks, once Dean’s recovered more, we can come up with some other story of where he’s been.”

Dean was, quite frankly, shocked by his father’s words. They were going to try to _hide_ the fact that he was a werewolf from the other hunters? What if… Dean had no intention of allowing himself to turn, but if he _did_ , he could take them completely by surprise. No one would know he was a danger until it was too late…

“Dad, I don’t think…” Dean started to say but his father cut him off abruptly.

“This is not a debate, son.” The older man said sharply as he reached for his coffee. Dean’s mouth snapped closed, his expression like he’d just sucked on a lemon. John ignored his pouting older son for a moment, turning his attention back to Sam.

“What did you get for breakfast?”

* * *

“He’s right.” For once, Sam agreed with his father rather than Dean. If the situation weren’t so serious, this might be comical.

Sam walked to the table and brought back the food. “Breakfast burrito for you, and…” He pulled out the bowl and set it over a pillow on Dean’s lap. “Oatmeal. Don’t complain, if there’s any poison left, it should absorb it.” His tone could be as no nonsense as his father’s, when he chose.

He pulled a chair close, and cradled his coffee in his hand. It was odd, and pleasant, how the three of them just … talked. When he was a kid, he’d loved those moments. Mostly because they were few and far between. The business always came first, always crept into the conversation and always had their dad or Dean or both of them leaving. Then Sam had grown older and the conversations had become harder because unlike Dean, he just couldn’t ‘fall in and take his marching orders.’ But today, there were no orders. It was just a father and his sons, shooting the breeze.


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later, Sam helped take some of his dad’s packed gear to the truck. When the other hunters had arrived the day before, Sam had wanted to go with them. But his father told him to stay with Dean, and deep down, Sam knew he was right, and he’d stayed back. Unsurprisingly, the hunters found the old mansion abandoned, and several other bodies.

Meanwhile, both he and his father… and Dean, whenever he felt up to it… had been researching like crazy. All hours. Any time any of them were awake, there was the sound of clicking keys on the lap tops or paper rustling. Mostly they’d run into dead ends. There was nothing worse than finding something that gave you hope, and then finding a theory debunked. Over the course of the two days, there had been too many tears blinked away by three strong men who thought they could take on anything.

Now there was another ray of hope. Sam so wanted to believe as he waved good bye to his dad and watched the truck kick up some dirt and drive out the lot. They’d found the name of someone who might know something about some cure. Yeah… it couldn’t be vaguer than that. No wait, it could. He didn’t have freaking address other than he lived in a remote area three states away.

Sighing, he turned around and headed back inside. He and his dad had mostly gotten along… only two shouting matches, both in the hall, though Dean wasn’t stupid and knew exactly what was going on. And now he had to deal with Dean, who had cabin fever. Just freakin’ great. The better he got, the more demanding and irritable AND irritating he got. _Helluvalot better than dead_ , a soft voice said in his mind. It was right.

Sam pushed the door of their room open and held the bag of items he’d gotten from a convenience store around the corner. “Got cards, dominoes, and… now that dad’s gone… skin mags. Think that’ll keep you quiet for a while?” He grinned, knowing full well that if Dean were completely healed, he’d be trying to knock him on his ass right now.

* * *

Dean was laying in his bed. His wounded leg propped up on a pillow, no bandage on the bite for the time being because his father wanted the wound to ‘breathe’ for a while now that the infection was healing.

He no longer had a fever, but the wound was still tender and painful enough that he still couldn’t walk around very much. Not that his brother or his father had really _let_ him. Both of them threatening to tie him down if he didn’t lie here and rest.

So that’s what he was doing. _Resting_. Flipping through the channels on the TV with the remote for the tenth time and still finding nothing he wanted to watch, while his brother saw his father off. Their dad leaving on a wild goose chase to find some guy about a possible cure while they waited here because it still wasn’t ‘safe’ for Dean to go out with the hunters still in the area searching for signs of the werewolf pack.

So Dean was stuck here. In this god damn room, with his god damn nursemaid of a brother, and he was fucking _bored_. This _so_ wasn’t how he wanted to spend his last few weeks.

Dean had gone along with helping his dad and his brother with their research, mostly because it was the only thing they would let him do. They hadn’t found anything. Nothing but dead ends, just like Dean knew they would, and he just wished they would give up and let him _enjoy_ what little of a life he had left. But his brother and his father still clung to their ‘hope’ and it made for a tense atmosphere and emotional strain when he saw those hopes dashed again and again.

The elder man’s eyes flickered briefly away from the television when his brother came back into the room, announcing what items he’d brought back with him and Dean’s first response was to flip Sam the bird before he turned his eyes back to the television before replying sarcastically.

“Oh, you mean you’re going to let me beat off? I thought you didn’t want me to strain myself…”

* * *

Sam made a face and didn’t answer directly. “Jerk.” Dropping the bag, he grabbed his lap top from the table and went to sit down on his dad’s now vacated bed. At least now he wouldn’t wake up every morning to Mr. Bed Hog laying all over him.

He started to tap away on the keyboard, writing a new list of research ideas, occasionally looking over at Dean staring at the television. His expression was hard and implacable. Great. It was gonna be a fun day. Sam tried to stay quiet. The less he said, the less likely it was that he’d set Dean off.

But the longer the silence stretched, the more Sam needed to break it.

Sighing out loud, he went over and sat down on Dean’s bed. “Stop ignoring me,” he said, shaking Dean’s shoulder lightly. “Look, I know it’s hard, and I know you’re scared… it’s natural, but maybe you just need to deal with your feelings. Get it out there… work them out.” Right, he was asking Dean Winchester to spill his guts, what the hell was he thinking?

* * *

“Bitch.” Dean muttered under his breath. Not really surprised when Sam immediately went for his laptop, and the elder man continued flipping through the television channels, trying to ignore his brother and the tapping of the keyboard.

That sound was really starting to get on his fucking nerves.

He could practically feel the younger man’s eyes boring into his head every time the younger man looked at him, and he knew Sam well enough that his brother wasn’t going to just leave things well enough alone. Much to Dean’s displeasure. So it wasn’t too much of a surprise when he finally heard the young man sigh, and felt the bed beside him dip.

Dean’s expression twisting into a grimace as he glanced at his brother in irritation.

“What the hell, are you channeling Oprah now? Christo!” Dean asked, only half sarcastically. Always annoyed when Sam got all ‘let’s share our feelings’.

* * *

“I’m not channeling anyone,” Sam huffed. Why did he even bother? “Look Dean, I’m your brother, and I know what you’re going through. Don’t give me that look, cause I do. I feel it too… alright? From the minute I found you all chained up like an animal, to the time I thought you might still … “ he looked away for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

When he looked back, Dean wasn’t looking any less displeased, but he didn’t care. “All my life… all my life Dean, I looked up to you because you’re a fighter. You don’t give up. But right now, right now I get this feeling that you’re shutting down, giving up, and it’s freakin’ scaring me… much more than what you may turn into.” His gaze never wavered from Dean’s. “You want to yell at me, do it. You want to fight with me, that’s fine, I can take that. Just don’t give in to your fear. Don’t. I couldn't take it.”

* * *

If looks could kill, Sam would have already been six feet under.

Dean wasn't a complete asshole. Really he wasn't. And, god forbid, if their places were reversed he would have probably been freaking out just as much as Sam was about the whole thing. He'd be doing everything in his power to try to save Sam, too. There was no way in hell he'd let his brother just 'give up' and die…

But it was _him_ , not Sam. _He_ was going to turn into a fucking monster. _He_ was going to become a fucking werewolf, and attack and kill anyone or anything, even his father, even his _brother_ and…

No. He wasn't going to let it happen. He wasn't going to even let there be a _chance_ it might happen. Because when it came down to it, he knew his brother would never shoot, not even to save himself, and that was just… unacceptable.

It wasn't worth the risk. _He_ wasn't worth that risk. He couldn't even think it without his throat closing in fear. The possibility of waking up one morning after the full moon to find his hands covered in blood… his brother's blood…

If that was 'giving up' then, yes, he was giving up, and he wasn't the least bit ashamed to be doing it.

Dean realized he was still staring at his brother. Glaring at him actually. His jaw clenched so tight it was making his teeth ache, and he knew he had to say _something_ but he really had nothing to say. There was no argument Sam could possibly make that would change his mind about what needed to be done.

Sooner or later, Dean was going to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. Blowing his brains out with a silver bullet, doing what neither his father nor his brother weren't capable of. Hopefully it would be a little later, rather than sooner, however with his pain in the ass brother trying to force him into a fucking Kodak moment he was seriously considering just getting it over with.

"Are you done? Or do we have to hold hands and sing kumbaya now?" Dean finally snapped sarcastically, snorting and shaking his head.

"To hell with this." He decided suddenly, shutting off the television abruptly with a click of the remote and climbing out of the other side of the bed. Limping over to his duffel his Dad had apparently salvaged out of the Impala's trunk before putting it in storage, and pulling out some clean clothes. He started getting dressed without looking at his brother.

* * *

He should have expected it, but Sam flinched at Dean's rough response. In the end though, what bothered him more was where he thought his brother's mind was at. He hated this... one minute worrying what his dad would do about a possible werewolf in the family, and then worrying about what said werewolf would do. He wasn't stupid, he got how serious this was, he got how dangerous a werewolf could be. But what the fuck was wrong with securing him during full moons if it came to that?

His nostrils flared as he stared at his brother. "Dean you promised..."

And then his brother was off like a shot, and changing. "What the hell are you doing? Dean?" Swinging his legs off the bed, Sam reached him. "You're not going out. Dean you're hurt and dad said we have to stay holed up. You heard him... there are hunters out there."

Then it struck him between the eyes. "That's what you want, isn't it? You want them to find you, is that it? Is it?" Injured or not, he shoved Dean. "You're not going out, I'm not letting you do this. I'm not." His brother wasn't getting himself killed, not on his watch. Not ever.

* * *

Dean pretty much ignored his brother when the younger man demanded to know what he was doing. It was pretty obvious what he was doing, after all, and he didn’t feel like answering stupid rhetorical questions.

He was going out. Plain and simple. He was tired of being cooped up in this god damn motel room, and he needed to get out now or he was going to go insane.

So he pulled on his jeans. Wincing only a little when the rough denim rubbed against the wound on his inner thigh. Then he went for his shirt, only to have his brother yelling in his face a second later, and shoving him, nearly throwing him off balance and onto his ass.

“What the fuck, Sam!” He yelled, shoving the younger man back, though he didn’t have nearly as good leverage as his brother did considering it wasn’t all that easy for him to be standing on his feet right now. That wasn’t going to stop him from going out though, because if he didn’t, he felt he was likely to kill someone.

Either his brother or himself.

“God damn it, Sam! I’m going out for a drink! That’s all! I can’t stand being in here anymore! For six months I haven’t been able to go out, or do anything! So you can either come with me, or you can stay here, but I’m leaving, right now.”

With that, Dean yanked his shirt on over his head, shoved his feet into an extra pair of his dad’s boots the elder man had left for him, and pushed his way past his brother. Heading for the door.

* * *

Sam mentally cursed. For one crazy second, he thought about dragging Dean’s ass back, but did he really want to escalate? He wasn’t one to shirk from a knock down fight with his brother but Dean wasn’t in any condition to fight, but he would... and then he’d get himself more fucked up then he already was.

“Wait, Goddamnit,” he huffed, moving to the bed and getting a handgun from under it. He checked that it was fully loaded, and shoved it into his waistband. Grabbing a jacket, he silently followed Dean out of the room.

There was an old shack of a bar down the road a ways. Reluctantly, Sam jutted his chin in the direction of the bar. The way over was a dirt road with lots of pebbles and rocks. He could see his brother was having trouble, his limp was more pronounced, but did the stubborn ass ask for help? Hell no.

Staring at his implacable features, Sam didn’t say anything and didn’t move to help him. The going was slow, and then slower. Still Dean didn’t ask. Sam’s jaw started to ache. His resolve started to dissolve. Eventually, without saying a word, he just moved close and put his arm around Dean’s waist, taking some of the weight of his bum leg.

* * *

As soon as Dean stepped outside he felt like he could breathe again. Maybe that was cliché or corny but it was also true. He’d felt like he was slowly suffocating inside that motel room. Like maybe he was still being held prisoner even though he’d been rescued. Only it was a little worse because it was his father and brother holding him ‘captive’ rather than the damn werewolves.

Just being able to stand outside of his own free will. No chains on him, not trying to run for his life, or having rough hands dragging him around, beating him. Just feeling the cool air against his skin, breathing it in. Crisp but not too cold, early November air…

He might have been ok just to stand in front of their motel room, close his eyes, and just breathe in the fresh air for a while. But then his pissed off little brother was next to him, jerking his head in the direction they were going to be walking in, so he started walking before Sam could change his mind and drag him back inside their motel room.

So they started walking. Dean doing his best to keep up with the younger man’s longer stride, not all that easy even under normal circumstances, but now nearly impossible the way his wounded leg immediately began protesting. God damn it, why did that bitch have to bite him _there_ of all places! Every step sent pain shooting up through his thigh, and even before they were half way there he was limping much more heavily than when he first started.

His bruised back and shoulders decided to start giving him misery as well, just for the hell of it, it seemed, and Dean was forced to slow down before he stumbled or something. Sam obviously noticed, because his brother slowed down as well, but Dean stubbornly pretended he was fine. He didn’t need to hear his brother say, ‘I told you so’.

When the younger man suddenly slipped his arm around his waist, Dean looked at him briefly, a little surprised, but didn’t say anything. He may be stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it the rest of the way without his brother’s help. Though he would never admit it aloud.

The fact that he didn’t shove his brother off of him or even make a sarcastic remark about personal space or hugging him, was in its own way its own form of thanks. Walking like this wasn’t exactly quicker or easier, but at least it was less painful, and Dean knew a few shots would do wonders for taking away the rest of his discomfort once they got in the bar. He did force the younger man to let him go before they entered the bar, however.

This time of day the bar was nearly empty, and maybe he should have taken a seat at a corner booth somewhere to stay relatively out of sight just in case there were any hunters hanging around. But instead Dean limped right up to the bar because, damn it, he wanted a drink right now. He didn’t want to wait for the waitress to make her rounds.

“Whiskey, two shots.” Dean told the bartender as he slid gratefully onto a stool, nodding to his brother. “And whatever he’s having.”

Then he gave the younger man a smirk.

“Hope you brought your wallet.”

* * *

When Dean was being an ass like this, it wasn’t worth wasting your breath. His hunter brother knew damn well this wasn’t how to keep a low profile, but here they were... Mentally cursing, Sam didn’t return Dean’s smile.

“Coffee. Black.” He felt the weight of both Dean’s and the bar tender’s gazes, and repeated his answer. “Just coffee.” They’d make him think he was crazy for not drinking at the crack of dawn... if he let them.

Pulling his wallet out, Sam tossed a couple of bills on the bar, and spoke once the barman had moved away. “Hope you’re not planning on getting drunk because I’m not planning on carrying you all the way back. You’re a lot bigger now.”

He meant Dean had grown from the time Sam had left for college. Course he was a lot bigger now and had carried his brother’s ass from the mansion to the truck when it was necessary. He just wasn’t happy with Dean right now and didn’t want him going overboard drinking and doing whatever else was going on in that mind of his. He just seemed to be in one of his ‘make trouble’ moods, and this wasn’t the time for it. It just freakin’ wasn’t.

* * *

When his prude little brother just ordered himself a coffee from the bartender, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Spoilsport.” He accused. But at least the younger man was paying for his drinks, so he couldn’t piss his brother off _too_ much. Or Sam might just leave his ass here with no way to pay his tab, and that might suck a little.

Because, getting drunk? That sounded really appealing right now. He would have thanked his brother for the suggestion, but he was too busy tossing back his first shot. The strong liquid burning a path down his throat because he hadn’t drank for a while, and instantly filling his belly with warmth.

Damn that felt good.

Dean instantly tossed back his second shot, and held two more fingers up for the bartender.

“Make um doubles.”

By the time Dean was tossing back his fourth round, he was pretty much pain free. Not ready to jump up on the table and sing some karaoke yet, but definitely tipsy.

They’d moved back to one of the back tables after the second round. Just so Sammy would stop glaring holes into the back of his skull. Not that his brother had really relaxed, even then, but the booth cushion did feel a lot better on his leg than the barstool had been, he had to admit that. Not aloud of course.

Dean was currently trying to see how high he could stack his empty shot glasses up without having them topple over. Grinning as he placed his fifth, or was it his sixth, empty glass successfully on top of his tower. He grinned across the table at his brother triumphantly, only to be met with a sullen glare, and Dean rolled his eyes. Picking up one of his full shot glasses.

“Jesus Christ, Sammy, loosen up will you? You’re wound up tighter than a cat’s ass.” The elder man said, snorting a little in amusement at his own analogy, before taking another drink.

* * *

He’d been watching one shot after another disappear into his brother, and had kept his teeth gritted together. He’d stop now. Surely he’d stop at two. At four. God damnit...

Reaching out, he grabbed Dean’s wrist before his brother got the sixth glass to his mouth. “Will you take it easy with that? You were just pumped with meds and you’ve been sick... hardly ate anything,” he forcibly brought Dean’s glass down to the table. “And if I’m wound up... there’s a good reason for it and its sitting right in front of me,” Sam huffed.

He started to get up, but leaned in first. “Don’t touch that, not until you get something in your stomach first.” Sliding out of the booth, he headed to the bar and ordered pizza... yeah, it was that or hot wings, and neither sounded pleasant at this time of the morning.

When he returned, he plunked a bowl of peanuts down in front of Dean, and slid back in. He tried to give his brother a stony look, but after a while, his anger had thawed. “I’m worried, okay? We’ve got enough on our plate without you stacking the cards against us. And I can’t shake the feeling it’s intentional. Is it?” His eyes locked with Dean’s.

* * *

Dean glared a little at his brother when the younger man grabbed his wrist, telling him to 'take it easy' and not letting him take another drink. But at the same time he couldn't help but grin a little when the Sammy said _he_ was the reason his little brother was so wound up. After all, he'd always taken pride in the fact that he could get his little brother's panties in a twist so easily.

"Yes, mother." He replied in about as sarcastic tone he could muster, rolling his eyes a little as he watched the younger man head for the bar. Barely resisting the urge to toss back the whiskey anyway while his brother's back was turned just to piss Sam off.

He didn't really know why he was trying so hard to piss his brother off right now. Though it probably had a lot to do with the Oprah moment that the younger man had tried to force him into back at the motel. Sam knew he hated talking about this kind of shit, and despite what the younger man said, he really had no fucking clue what he was going through right now. After all, Sam hadn't spent six fucking months with those monsters, up close and personal.

He didn't _know_ what it was like, what it would be like for him once he turned… and Dean had no intention of talking about it. Never. So if keeping Sam pissed off at him was the only way to stop the other man from trying to force him into touchy feely cry on my shoulder moments, then that option was a hell of a lot better.

Dean stuck his tongue out at his brother when the younger man returned to their booth, but he took a handful of peanuts from the bowl and popped them in his mouth just to be accommodating. Washing them down of course with another shot of whiskey.

"You worry too damn much." Dean's words were almost an accusation rather than an observation. Popping a few more peanuts into his mouth and chewing slowly to avoid answering the younger man's question. Even though his brother would no doubt know he was stalling because whenever had he been shy about talking with his mouth full?

"I'm not stacking shit against you, little brother. For being so damn smart, college boy, I thought you'd know a lost cause when you saw one." The elder man finally said, and maybe he was a little more drunk than he thought because he couldn't seem to stop the words pouring out of his mouth.

"I just don't know how you managed to get Dad to go along with all this finding a cure crap, but whatever. I'm just trying to _enjoy_ what little life I have left. Maybe you should try it sometime." He said as he reached for his last shot.

* * *

Sam tried not to be hurt by his brother’s cutting words, and he moved faster, grabbing the shot glass away, and knocking it back. He started to sputter, and his eyes burned... not to mention the protests from his burning esophagus and stomach. The last thing he’d wanted was liquor at this time of the morning.

Wiping at his eyes, and glaring at Dean who was far too amused to maybe realize the only reason he’d taken the shot was so Dean couldn’t, he lifted his now cool coffee to his mouth and took a few sips. “You think I don’t know your M.O.? When you’re caught at something or don’t want to talk, you just attack... try to be unpleasant and hope it shuts the other person up. Well I’m not shutting up, Dean,” he emphasized by raising his brows.

Damn... that whiskey tasted foul in his mouth now. He gave Dean a reproachful look. “And I have a life which I enjoy.” Yeah, he’d made a life for himself, hard as it had been. “And what you’re doing right now with yours? That’s not enjoying it, it’s wasting it... It’s giving up, not something I expect from you.”

No, he wasn’t going to go emo... cause that would piss Dean off more. But he’d given him a promise, and already it looked to Sam like he was breaking it. He swallowed hard. Dammit... not the time to think about how he’d almost lost Dean. Not the time to think about how Dean had held onto him when he made his promise. If he thought about it too much...

Trying to bring a rougher edge to his voice, he added, “dad’s as stubborn as you, and he came around. Maybe he’d got a good reason, and maybe you should try not to be a stubborn ass sometime.”

* * *

Dean glared at his brother like he was trying to mentally drill holes into his skull when Sam snatched his drink away from him and knocked it back himself.

_Asshole. Get your own._ He had been about to say, but his annoyance quickly turned to amusement as he watched his brother sputter and choke on the strong liquor, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Well, that’s what his pain in the ass brother got. Of course now Sam was glaring at _him_ like it was his fault somehow.

Dean simply rolled his eyes again as he tried to flag the waitress down for another round of drinks. Doing his best to ignore his little brother’s psycho babble because it was really getting on his nerves. Actually it was pissing him the fuck off. Especially when the younger man went on to say how much he enjoyed his ‘life’ back at college, and that Dean was ‘wasting’ his life.

“Oh yeah? Well, if you enjoy your life so much, college boy, then why don’t you just fucking go back to it? It’s my life, god damn it! If I want to ‘give up’ that’s my right! And if I want to eat a bullet before turning into a fucking monster, that’s my right too!” Dean’s voice rose till he was nearly shouting, drawing some stares from a few of the other bar patrons but either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care.

Slamming his hands down on the table, making his glass tower topple over loudly, Dean stood up abruptly. The room tilting a little when he did, but he didn’t really care about that either.

“Who says I wanted your help! Or Dad’s! You should have just fucking left me there with those damned werewolves!” Dean did yell this time, and all but stumbled out of the booth where they were sitting, heading for the door.

* * *

Dean’s sudden outburst gave Sam a heart attack. For someone who was injured, Dean could sure say a hell of a lot and move fast. Shit!

As he rushed behind him, Sam gave a sloppy smile and put one arm around his brother, though he was wishing it was his hand around Dean’s throat at this moment. He laughed out loud, “Like you said, wolves in sheeps clothing...”

It might have looked like a friendly hug, but Sam was dragging Dean’s ass out, and right now he didn’t care if the long steps he was forcing hurt his leg, or if his arm was pressing into the bruises at his back. Furious didn’t cover how he was feeling.

Once they were outside and a little ways away, he pushed Dean’s back up against a tree and put his hand on his chest to prevent him from getting away. He’d had it. “Shut up... just shut up and listen for once,” he ground out, pressing harder on him. “That wasn’t what you said when I found you... you didn’t fucking ask to be left back there, you wanted to come home. Home Dean, not with them, not dead... you wanted home. Now you’re out of there, you have a chance, and all you fucking want to do is to piss it away. Well I won’t let you.” Sam’s jaw was set, his face serious as hell. “If you don’t do this for yourself, then do it for _me_. Do for dad. Just do it, Dean. Live.”

* * *

Dean growled, literally growled, when his brother all but dragged him out of the bar. Forcing him to walk a lot faster than his injured leg could really manage. Then practically slamming him against a tree, reminding him exactly how painful the bruises on his back really were.

The elder man’s nostrils flared. This close he could _smell_ Sam’s anger. His frustration. Even his fear. His brother’s scent had been driving him crazy for the past two days, and the younger man’s volatile emotions only seemed to make it stronger. More heady, more intoxicating, than even the booze he’d been drinking on an empty stomach.

Dean grabbed the wrist of the hand that Sam was pinning him to the tree with. Feeling his brother’s racing pulse as his fingers curled around it. No, not only feeling. _Hearing_ it. All of his senses were somehow thrown into overdrive and it was so loud it was almost deafening. Matching the rapid beat of his own heart. Every breath he took, all he could smell was Sam. When he licked his lips he swore he could taste him…

With another furious growl, Dean suddenly grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt, his other hand tightening like a vice around the wrist he held, and suddenly he had his brother against the tree. He didn’t know how he’d managed it. He _shouldn’t_ have been able to manage it. But somehow he had, and the entire length of their bodies were flush as he held Sam pinned there with his own weight.

“And what are you going to do when I go feral on you, little brother? When I get loose one night, because you know it will happen eventually, and when I try to attack you or someone else? What are you going to do? Will you pull the trigger? Will you shoot me? Will _you_ choose to live? Or will you let me wake up with your blood on my hands! Answer me!”

* * *

“What the— unh!” One minute Sam was in control of the sitch, the next he found himself slammed into the tree. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at Dean’s aggression, but his brother was using his entire body as a weapon... pressing him back, in his space, demanding answers and maybe scaring him just a little.

He squirmed, trying to break free, but Dean’s hold was too strong. “What the hell, Dean, back off.”

When his brother didn’t, his adrenalin kicked in and his heart started to pound harder. “It’s not gonna happen like that. I told you, we’d take care of it... you won’t get loose.” He tried to look away from the intensity of Dean’s gaze, but it was impossible. His chest started to heave as he tried to rein in his emotions. It would only piss Dean off more.

In the end, there was only one truth... and it had to be told. “Fine. Bottom line... you don’t wanna wake up and have to bury me. Well what the hell makes you think I want to do the same? Huh Dean? If you’re six feet under the ground, you think I’m gonna ever sleep again? Dammit... you should know...” he pushed Dean, then he slammed his hands into Dean’s chest again. “You should know.”

* * *

Dean caught both of his brother’s wrists, pinning the younger man’s hands above his head so that Sam couldn’t hit him again. However the low growl of anger that had been building in his throat died away almost instantly when his brother’s words registered through the haze of alcohol, fear, and anger clouding his thoughts.

He knew… of course he knew. If their places were reversed, Dean knew he’d be feeling the exact same things his brother was feeling now. All the fear of losing someone that you loved more than your own life. Had always loved, since the moment you knew what love was. The desperation to save him, even though he knew deep down he couldn’t be saved, that wouldn’t stop Dean from trying either. Wouldn’t stop him from begging his brother to live… live for him, if nothing else, because he couldn’t live without him…

But the fear of hurting his brother. The possibility of killing him, his brother dying at his own hands because of something he had no control over…

Dean closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead against the younger man’s. Swallowing hard as he tried to control his emotions, tried to keep them from boiling over and spilling out. Because he knew if he didn’t he might just start crying, or screaming, or both.

He could feel Sam’s heart beating hard and fast against his chest, and he knew his brother could probably feel his as well, they were standing so close. So close they were breathing the same air, and Dean knew if anyone happened to walk by them right now they’d probably think they were making out or something. That thought should have bothered him. It didn’t. Not right now.

Yes, Sam was right, he was afraid. So god damn afraid of what he was going to become he couldn’t feel anything else. It tainted everything. If it was this bad now, how was it going to be once it got closer to the full moon? A week before? A day before…? An hour before the moon rose…? Having no control over the monster inside of him during that time. Not knowing what he would do, what he had done, until morning. Never knowing if he’d killed someone ‘this’ time. If he’d killed the one person he loved more than anything else in this world…

“I don’t want to hurt you…” Dean finally whispered so softly he barely heard his own voice. A tremble passing through his body as he pressed himself even closer to the younger man. His cheek brushing against Sam’s. “If I… killed you… it would be worse than dying… worse than hell…”

* * *

Sam tried to break Dean’s iron grip on his wrists but Dean was relentless, his fingers bit into his Sam’s wrists, and the back of his hands were pressed into the rough bark. “Dean... stop,” he said through gritted teeth.

His brother acted like he didn’t even hear him. He was using his entire body as a weapon, pressing Sam up against the tree, leaving him no room to move, and hardly any space. He even used his freakin’ forehead to hold Sam back. What was this? New ‘Winchester tactics’ on how to subdue someone? Sam wouldn’t be surprised.

The long silence was starting to get eerie. “You’re drunk. Let go and I’ll...”

But big brother wasn’t listening. He just pressed closer, as if he wanted to push all the air out of Sam’s body. Feeling every part of their bodies touch, Sam started to panic about how it looked. “Dude... you gotta get off...”

Then he felt Dean shift and instinctively knew he was going to say something. Over the loud thundering of his heart, he heard his brother’s admission. Okay... he was the one that had been dying for this discussion, but this was ridiculous... he meant across a table, not in each others’ faces like this.

He licked his lips. “You won’t. Dean, you won’t... you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let you. It’s not gonna play out that way, okay? You’re shivering... let’s get back and talk at the motel.” Instead of being released, he saw something in Dean’s eyes that he couldn’t name. It made his heart constrict... made him look away... made him want to run.

“Dammit. Let go of me, now.” He tried harder to shove Dean, this time twisting his body and trying to fight him off that way.

* * *

When the younger man began struggling in earnest against him, Dean drew back just enough to look into his brother’s eyes. So close, it was all he could really see. He felt like he was looking directly into his brother’s soul. His brother was all he could see. The younger man’s heat pressed all along the front of him was all he could feel. Sam was all he could smell…

He was once more keenly aware of the younger man’s scent. This close, it was like he was drowning in it, and he could clearly make out the sharp bitter tang of fear. This time he knew, he just knew somehow, that Sam wasn’t afraid _for_ him anymore. His brother was afraid _of_ him.

That realization sobered him enough that Dean finally released his brother’s wrists from his near bruising grip. Stepping away from the younger man, his shivering growing more pronounced with the loss of his brother’s warmth.

Dean swallowed hard. Looking away, his eyes burning with shame.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” He whispered, but he couldn’t finish the sentence. His voice choking off as he turned away from his brother and started limping slowly back towards their motel room.

_I didn’t mean to scare you…_   


* * *

Free, Sam leaned his head back against the tree and took a couple of deep breaths as he rubbed his wrists and watched his brother walk off. He guessed a half-assed apology was better than none, especially since this was Dean he was dealing with.

Even though Dean was limping, the distance between them grew quite far. Stubborn bastard. Never mind that he could find himself hunted, he didn’t give a single backwards glance, or care that he was unarmed. Well, Sam had to admit it was possible his brother had a knife on him, but what the hell good was that gonna do against hunters, or worse… wolves.

Pushing off, he started to follow, lengthening his strides to catch up. The sound of silence between them was deafening. Sighing out loud, Sam put his arm out to help Dean. “C’mon. Lemme help you.” He was only slightly wary until he met Dean’s gaze and saw that the feral look was now gone. Bending slightly, he wrapped his arm around his brother’s waist.

After a while, Sam was fed up again. “We’re not doing this. We’re not doing the silent treatment, and we’re not going to fight over everything, cause Dean… that would just be hell.” He looked over at his face. “How about we plan on little trips outside the motel every day? Some place safe, but outside. I know there’s a lake around here. I could check it out.” He knew it wasn’t the kind of excitement Dean probably craved. “Once your leg’s better, maybe a real bar or something.” It was a concession, something to maybe appease Dean and give him something to look forward to. If it were up to Sam, he’d just keep him holed up and safe, but he knew it wasn’t happening. He’d just gotten a taste of what happened when Dean was cooped up too long, and it wasn’t pleasant.

* * *

It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two before he heard the crunch of gravel and stone behind him from his brother’s footsteps as the younger man caught up to him. Even if it felt like a small eternity, Dean knew he couldn’t move that fast. He supposed he should feel lucky that Sam wanted to be near him at all after the way he’d just acted.

Practically attacking his brother… Dominating him… Overpowering him even though he was still injured, he probably never could have done it if he hadn’t taken Sam by surprise, but that didn’t make it any better. It only made it worse, because Sam had trusted him. Maybe Sam would see his point now. If his brother couldn’t even trust him _now_ …

His thoughts were cut off abruptly when Sam offered to help him, and Dean looked at his brother with a little bit of trepidation even though _he_ had been the one to attack the younger man. Sam didn’t wait for his answer though, just wrapping an arm around his waist to help take the weight off of his injured leg, and Dean let him. Sighing softly as they made their way slowly back to the motel room in silence.

At least until his brother broke it again. Yeah, yeah that would be hell, and the last thing Dean wanted was for them to be at each other’s throats constantly until… He didn’t want those to be the last memories Sam had of him. So Dean sighed again and nodded to the younger man’s suggestion. Not that he was the walk-in-the-woods-hang-out-by-a-lake kind of guy, it would be better than being cooped up in that motel room all day, every day.

He even offered his brother a small genuine smile when Sam suggested they could go to a ‘real’ bar once his leg was better. His brother was trying. Really he was. The least Dean could do was try too.

“Ok.” Dean finally agreed. Not really sure what else to say. He almost wanted to apologize again to his brother, but at the same time, he didn’t really want to think about the argument they’d just had, so he didn’t say anything more as Sam let them back into their motel room.

Dean immediately laid back down on his bed, glad to have the weight off of his leg, but also because all the shots he had were really starting to hit him now. He’d barely managed the last few steps to their room and knew he would probably have fallen on his ass without Sam’s help. It was probably only a minute or two after his head hit the pillow that he started snoring.

* * *

Sam shook his head. Served Dean right and maybe he’d get his just desserts and wake with a headache or something. Right, it was Dean… he’d just wake up irritating. If Sam were a good brother, he’d take Dean’s shoes off and throw something over him. Snorting at the thought, he went to grab the lap top and brought it to the other bed.

Stacking a few pillows behind his back, he turned the t.v. on low, and continued his research. This time, instead of looking for cures, he searched for symptoms and the stages that a person who’d been infected by the bite of a werewolf went through. He needed to know what to expect, and maybe find some markers indicating when a full change was close. The moon had a lot to do with it, but he’d seen some references to changing at other times. That he’d kept from both his brother and his father. It could be false anyway, just like all the possible cure references that were debunked in other materials.

Once in a while, he glanced over at his slightly snoring brother. A sense of trepidation wormed its way into his belly. The promise he’d extracted when Dean was too weak to argue too strongly was off the table, he knew it in his gut and it scared him something terrible. Maybe he should keep Dean drunk and asleep or drug him. Okay, not now… but later, if he had to, he would.

Settling on that crazy scheme, he felt better. Slightly. Dad… bring back a cure. It was all he could do not to call his dad up for an update. Letting out a breath, he went back to collecting information.

* * *

_Dean caught both of his brother’s wrists, pinning the younger man’s hands above his head so that Sam couldn’t hit him again. A low warning growl forming in his throat as the younger man tried to struggle ineffectually out of his grip. Twisting and bucking against him, trying to throw him off, but Dean had much more leverage over Sam at the moment and he held him in place easily against the tree._

_Crushing their bodies together. Dominating him. They were so close he could taste his brother’s breath on his lips. So close all he could see was the younger man’s wide, fearful, eyes. All he could feel was his brother’s heat, soaking into him all along his front, practically burning him. All he could smell was his brother’s intoxicating scent. Fear and confusion the strongest… but when Dean shifted his hips against the younger man, an unmistakable spike of desire…_

_Sam’s breath quickened, his eyes growing even wider as Dean pushed against him again. Dean's growing arousal obvious and his brother’s lips parted in a soft gasp. Sam’s tongue darting out to lick his lips and with a soft growl, Dean chased that teasing tongue back into his brother’s mouth._

_Crushing his lips against his Sam’s. Moaning into his brother’s mouth as he rubbed his groin hard against the younger man’s. Swallowing his brother’s pleasured whimpers and moans greedily._

* * *

First Dean was thrashing around a little, which was odd because Dean had the tendency to sleep like a big unmoving log, and then he was making some sounds and moving his head from side to side. Thinking either the fever was back, or his brother was having a nightmare about all that had happened to him, Sam got off his bed and went to Dean.

“Dean, you alright?” he asked, bending over him and shaking his shoulder lightly. A low sound broke from Dean, like a whimper. “Dean… it’s just a—“

Before he could reassure his brother, Sam felt an iron grip go around his waist, pulling him down toward Dean. Since he detected a slight smile on Dean’s face, Sam was ready for anything. “Come on you ass, lemme go. I know you're awake.”

* * *

Dean wasn't awake, not in the slightest. He wasn't fully asleep either, but that didn't matter much when your brain was swimming in half a bottle of whiskey. He _was_ aware that his brother was standing close to him. He was always aware of exactly where Sam was lately, just from his scent. He'd felt the younger man's hand shake him. Not startling him really, and not waking him from his dream just, changing it a little.

Missing Sam's warmth the elder man immediately reached out for him. Wrapping his arms tightly around the younger man's waist and dragged his brother down to him with a smile. Oh yeah, that was better.

It was even better when he leaned up, one hand still on his back, his other sliding up to cup the back of his brother's head as he crushed his lips against the younger man's. His fingers tangling in Sam's hair as he held him close, not letting him pull away as he licked between Sam's lips. Forcing his tongue past them into his brother's mouth with a groan of pleasure.

* * *

Sam came down hard on top of Dean, and didn’t even try to break his fall since he thought Dean was awake. The next moment proved him wrong… so freakin’ wrong…

Before he knew it, he was in Dean’s embrace and unable to turn his face as Dean’s mouth found his. He started to protest. Big mistake. He’d opened his mouth and now found Dean’s tongue delving inside. And oh God, the sound Dean made… like he was in the throes of sex. He should have recognized the sound earlier… not a nightmare, but a freakin’ hot dream.

Okay so while Dean was probably having a wet dream about some blonde chick, his tongue was doing things to Sam. Sliding in and out of his mouth, tangling his tongue. Hell… if he were asleep like Dean, instead of panicking, he might be the one groaning.

No, this was waaaay wrong. Heart pounding, Sam tried to break free. Problem was, the last thing he wanted was for Dean to actually wake. This was hella embarrassing, and would be doubly so if Dean… whoa…the way Dean’s tongue lightly stroked before deepening the kiss sent a strange shiver down Sam’s spine. Before he could process it, Dean was kissing him so fiercely, it felt like a branding. Breathless and unable to stop the incredible surge of heat inching through his veins, Sam felt totally out of control.

* * *

Dean stroked his tongue along the roof of his brother’s mouth. Tracing the outline of his teeth. Coaxing the younger man’s tongue into his mouth so he could suck on it with a moan of pleasure that seemed to be pulled from the depths of his soul.

His fingers sliding through his brother’s soft hair. Petting. His other hand trailing along the base of the younger man’s spine. Sam’s shirt inching up to reveal a soft strip of flesh which his fingers immediately sought more of greedily. Sliding underneath his brother’s shirt, stroking up the length of his back.

It was so good… so fucking good… Sam’s taste. His brother’s smell. He was drowning in it and he didn’t care. It was perfect. So perfect. Sammy… His Sammy… Why had they never done this before? His little brother had always meant everything to him. Everything. Why not this too? He wanted this. Needed this. Needed him… Sam was his, always his… Always…

Growling softly in the back of his throat, Dean wrapped one of his legs around his brother’s hips and quickly flipped them over. Never breaking their kiss as he pinned the younger man beneath him. Pressing his hips down, and rubbing his growing erection against Sam’s stomach as his hand on the younger man’s back slid lower. Dipping beneath the waistband of his brother’s jeans, giving the other man’s ass a firm squeeze as he moaned.

* * *

  
_Dean, no._ His senses were swimming so bad, he didn’t know whether he was coming or going. How had his tongue ended up in Dean’s mouth? He was vaguely aware his brother tasted like whiskey and lust, and God, the things he could do with just his mouth and tongue…licking, stroking, sucking… using them as skillfully as he did his weapons, drawing reactions Sam didn’t want to give, and slowly bringing Sam to a fevered pitch. The groan he heard this time wasn’t Dean’s… it was his own.

He was so lost in these sensations that he didn’t notice until it was too late that the Dean had reversed their positions and he was trapped under Dean. His heart banged out of control as he realized Dean’s hand was inside his pants… inside. _Hell no_ , this wasn’t happening. The kiss had lulled him but this… this was out of control.

And then Dean squeezed his ass. Sam instinctively raised his hips to get away from his hand, but found himself in much harder contact with Dean’s frame. With Dean’s arousal pressing into him, with his brother practically dry humping him, he was left with no illusions about where this was going if he didn’t stop it.

He pulled his head back, breaking the kiss and worked his hand between them. Just as he was about to shove Dean off, he felt Dean’s hand on his fly, and froze… just froze.

* * *

When he felt his brother arch beneath him, Dean responded by grinding his hips even harder against the younger man’s. Squeezing Sam’s ass again even harder, and pulling his brother tighter against him with a desperate moan. His trapped erection heavy and painful inside of his jeans begging to be set free. Everywhere his brother’s body touched him the younger man’s heat burned, he’d never been this hot for anyone. Never needed, wanted, to touch someone so badly, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be closer. Needed to feel Sam against him. Skin to skin. Nothing between them.

Dean released his hold on the younger man’s hair, trailing his hand down the length of his brother’s body. Sliding his hand over the younger man’s chest. Caressing him boldly through his clothing he had every intention of getting rid of very soon. And when Sam arched his neck back, breaking their kiss, the elder man’s lips immediately latched onto his brother’s throat instead.

His teeth nipped, and bit. Hard enough to bruise but not to break the skin. His tongue licking away the sting of his teeth, before his lips latched at the younger man’s pounding pulse point at his throat, sucking hard.

His hand working its way down, lower. Over his brother’s stomach, lower, to the front of Sam’s jeans. His fingers of his other hand digging into the younger man’s ass, holding him firmly, as he unbuttoned his fly. Letting go of his Sam’s ass only so he could tug his brother’s jeans down his brother’s hips.

* * *

Hard, warm hands groped Sam mercilessly, touching his chest and abs, leaving fire in their wake. Sam groaned as Dean wreaked havoc with his senses, made him ache in ways he would never have guessed possible. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. When he tried to push Dean off, and Dean let go of his hair, Sam though he was free.  
  
Wrong. Instead of letting him go, Dean’s mouth descended over his throat and sucked on him so fucking hard, Sam nearly shouted. Suddenly, Dean’s hands were everywhere… on his ass, on his stomach, touching, claiming… and the way Sam was trapped and vulnerable, he knew his brother was trying to take complete possession of him.

“Dean stop, Dean please,” he groaned, knowing it sounded as much like a plea to continue, as to stop, and he couldn’t help that. Dammit. And then Dean was single-mindedly opening his fly and dragging his jeans down, and Sam knew this was about control.

He felt the brush of Dean’s palm over his cock… and dammit, he was hard… and panicked… and confused. He bit his lower lip and arched towards Dean touch before he realized what he’d done. This was it, this had to stop.

He worked his hands between them and started to push Dean off again. This time, his brother gave a nasty snarl and bit down on the sensitive skin of Sam’s throat. “Dean!” Sam’s heart pounded with fear that Dean would break his skin and infect him. “Oh God Dean…”

Dean was touching him again, over his briefs but he was touching him so intimately, threatening to move inside his briefs… “Oh fuck, Dean…” Sam squirmed, but Dean kept holding him like he owned him. What the hell…

* * *

His heart was thundering in his chest with the pace of a jackhammer, pumping pure lust through his veins he was blind and deaf to almost everything else. All he could feel was his brother’s perfect body writhing underneath him in pleasure. All he could taste was Sam’s skin, the salt of his sweat, the sweet taste of his desire. All he could hear was the younger man’s breathy moans and his pounding heart.

_More…_ He wanted all of him. Every single inch…

Dean pushed his brother’s jeans down to his mid thighs and he wasted no time palming the younger man’s erection through the thin cotton briefs. His brother’s cock so hard, so hot. The younger man lifting his hips to his touch driving his desire up another notch. The elder man was so hard he was leaking, leaving a sticky wet spot against the front of his own jeans.

_Mine…_

He growled softly as he pushed his erection against his brother’s thigh. Practically humping his leg, needing some relief from the unbearable pressure against his trapped arousal.

When he felt his brother’s hands push against his shoulders, Dean reacted on pure instinct, biting down hard on the younger man’s neck with an angry growl. He was not in the mood to play games right now. He wanted Sam and he wanted him right now.

Another low growl left the elder man’s throat, a warning, as he slowly relaxed his bite against the younger man’s neck. The possessive mark his teeth had left had nearly broken the skin and would probably leave a spectacular bruise that the younger man would carry for days, if not weeks, and that thought only inflamed him more. Because everyone would see, and know who his brother belonged to.

Once he was sure the younger man’s struggles were through, Dean continued where he’d left off. Kissing his brother’s neck softly, occasionally nipping lightly with his teeth in reminder of his warning, while he teased his brother’s trapped flesh tenting his briefs. Sliding his fingers up and down the length of the firm shaft, his thumb circling around the head, feeling the thin material barely concealing Sam’s cock grow damp to his teasing.

His other hand working at his own fly, finally managing to get his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped one handed, sighing as the pressure against his straining cock was relieved a little. As he slid his hand into his brother’s underwear, wrapping his fingers around his fever hot length, Dean grabbed one of his brother’s hands and led it to his own aching cock. Pressing the younger man’s hand against him with a desperate sound.

* * *

Between the hint of danger from Dean’s aggressive snarls and threats to bite his throat if he moved, and the relentless teasing and touching that had Sam involuntarily lifting his hips and moaning at each heated touch through his briefs, Sam didn’t know whether he was coming or going. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. Hard, firm lips, where they should be soft. An iron grip that held him tight against a powerful, all male body, where there should be soft curves. Fear and excitement mingling low in his belly from not knowing what came next, when he himself should be leading the action, calling the shots. As he helplessly writhed, he knew he was being mastered... and right now he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His breaths grew heavy and mingled with Dean’s He wondered how long this would last. And then he felt Dean’s hand go inside his underwear and a brief protest broke from his lips as warm, calloused hands, gripped him. “Dean don’t,” the husky plea broke out of him... almost broke him. His brother didn’t listen and almost dragged him back into a fevered state of need... almost, because when he felt his own hand shoved down Dean’s body, his palm forced over the velvety hot shaft, and heard the desperation in his brother’s groan, Sam came to his senses.

He couldn’t do this, couldn’t let his brother jerk him off. This was wrong in so many ways... so many ways. “Dean wake up, Dean!” All he got for his troubles was a warning squeeze that had him seeing white and lifting his hips.

There was only one way out of this... he swallowed hard as he took Dean in his palm, closing his fingers around Dean and started to pump him hard and fast. He thought it would be distasteful... he was wrong. The need, the hunger Dean showed him with every movement of his hips, and every sound that broke from his throat, had Sam’s entire body clenching. He hadn’t expected a thrill at the sense of power that flowed through him, despite being dominated in every other way.

Holding on to the last shreds of his control, holding on so he wouldn’t come in Dean’s hand, Sam’s strokes grew faster and faster. _Come on Dean, finish... come on._ He knew just when Dean was on the edge... wanted to keep him there, wanted to know how far he could push him. _No... finish him._

_Follow the plan._ And Sam did, helping Dean go over the edge. Just as Dean stiffened and arched, Sam pried his brother’s now looser fingers off his own rock hard arousal and managed to twist out of Dean’s grip altogether. Deep in the throes of his climax, there were no snarls, no attempts to regain control over him, and Sam managed to roll away.

As he got of the bed, the temptation to watch Dean come was so fucking strong Sam thought he would die if he didn’t look. But he was trying to make sense of what happened, and was trying to deal with the aftermath... and giving in to one more depraved desire was not the right way to go.

Storming across the room, he stopped mid stride at the sound coming from Dean... swallowed and headed for the bathroom. He hardly recognized his reflection in the mirror. He’d been kissed senseless, he had a dark mark low on his throat... fuck... his clothes were fucked up and his cock still pulsed and ached. Resisting the temptation to jerk himself off to completion, Sam cursed and quickly changed into clean underwear and pulled his jeans back up. Rinsing his mouth with water, he spit out the memories of his brother’s tongue in places it didn’t belong. _Yeah right_.

By the time he had his clothes on straight, and the hicky hidden, he felt slightly better. Dry scrubbing his face, he walked out of their room and stood outside, against the wall, taking in the fresh air. He tried to remember Jessica’s face, tried to block Dean’s out in his mind. Then he dialed her number, closing his eyes as she spoke about school, and their friends, and normal things... slowly easing his fears and anxiety.

* * *

Dean’s grip tightened around his brother’s shaft, groaning, almost as though he were in pain, when the younger man’s fingers wrapped tightly around him and began to stroke his cock. It was good, so damn good, but it was almost too fast, too hard. He wanted Sam to go slower, to make it last longer, but he was too far gone at this point. Lust, more powerful than he’d ever felt in his life, overriding everything else and he didn’t want Sam to stop.

He panted heavily against his brother’s neck. Grunting and groaning with every movement of the younger man’s hand on his sensitive flesh. His hips snapping forward, thrusting between Sam’s fingers, desperate for more. Always more. Needing, wanting, burning, for more of his brother’s touch.

His own hand moved on his brother’s rock hard shaft to the same almost punishing rhythm. Speeding up his stokes whenever Sam did, as though it was now some kind of a race to see which one of them would finish first. Competing, fighting, in this like they did in everything else.

Dean was close, so damn close. Every muscle in his body drawing tight. The fire pooling in his belly ready to burst free and he didn’t want it to. He wanted to stay there on the edge where the pleasure was almost unbearable, but at the same time so sweet you wanted it to last forever. But Sam wasn’t letting him, forcing him over almost before he realized he was there, and the cry that was wrenched from his throat when he came was more protest than pleasure for a variety of reasons.

Though he was far too gone at that point to stop his orgasm from ripping through him like a tidal wave, he was left feeling unbearably cold when his brother suddenly wrenched himself out of his arms. Shivering with the loss of the younger man’s warmth even as his release coated his stomach in a hot sticky mess. Leaving him feeling unsatisfied even as his cock continued to pulse and his body shook with the aftershocks of pleasure.

The elder man’s eyes slid open, vision bleary and glazed, watching his brother walk away from him, and Dean whimpered softly. Reaching out for the younger man but Sam did not stop, turn around, or even look at him. The twist in his gut he felt then had nothing to do with pleasure, but at least the pain did not last long. The combination of alcohol and drowsiness quickly pulling him back under into a deeper sleep. Muttering his brother’s name softly.


	6. Chapter 6

Four and half hours had passed. Just enough time for Sam to talk himself down. Jessica's voice had helped a lot. And then he'd dove in and done 'normal' things, like sit back and watch t.v. and research, on his own bed. Occasionally he glanced over at Dean, still sprawled on his stomach and asleep. Earlier, it was hard getting out of his mind how he'd been held and the things Dean had done to him, made him feel, in his drunken, dreaming stupor. Now... the whole thing was so surreal, Sam could hardly believe it happened.

He'd rationalized it all away. Sure his brother had kissed, and kissed, and kissed the hell out of him, but that was because Dean hadn't had sex in such a long time. He'd probably been dreaming of a blonde chick, and thought that's who he was having his way with.

It was a bit harder to explain why he, Sam, had been swept up in lust. But hell, he'd bet Dean had done hundreds of women. He was so experienced, he knew all the tricks. If you closed your eyes, not much difference between having a guy's tongue in your throat or a girls. Right.

Then there was the groping, and the undressing. And the hand job. Sam bit his lip. It was just biology... physiology. It didn't matter who manipulated your cock, it would get hard... he was a guy, and guys were easily turned on. It was a simple as that. And there was no chemistry going on between them. None.

As to how the hell Dean, who was dreaming about a girl with a nice rack, had actually started giving him a hand job... sometimes it was better not to ask questions.

There had been a lot of weird in their lives. Sam was gonna put this into the weird column, and move on. Put it behind him. Forget it.

Being startled by the sound Dean made as it looked like he was waking... so not a good start. Sam took a deep breath and made sure his shirt was buttoned up. He felt heat steeling over his cheeks and hoped to hell that Dean remembered nothing but the dream chick.

* * *

Dean had been having some good dreams. Really good, in fact, he realized almost immediately if the dried sticky mess he woke up with in the front of his jeans was any indication.

He grunted in mild disgust as he blinked his eyes open. Trying to recall some of the images from those dreams, but failing miserably. All he kept seeing was Sam's face. Anything else slipped through his mental fingers like sand, he simply couldn't hold onto them. All he could really remember was feeling… complete.

Apparently he'd been having some pretty emo dreams along with his sex dreams… He thought with a mental snort as he slowly rolled over onto his back with another grunt. His limbs still moving a little sluggishly, but he was more or less sober now.

God, he hated passing out like that. He hated waking up feeling like his head was stuffed with cotton, and his mouth dry. He licked his lips before forcing his eyes open. Wincing a little at the light even though the shades were drawn closed. The only real light in the room from the television and from his brother's laptop, along with whatever filtered in through the cracks in the shades.

He had a mild headache, which probably wasn't surprising considering he'd been drinking so early in the fucking morning, but he didn't have a full blown hangover. He usually had to drink a hell of a lot more for that. Still it was a little annoying he had one at all. Damn it for being out of practice…

"What time is it?" The elder man mumbled, scrubbing his hand over his eyes.

* * *

It took only a little effort to act casual. Sam glanced at the time on his computer screen. “Almost six. Headache? Nausea?” He looked over. “Suddenly all those shots don’t seem like a good idea, do they?” Ordinarily he’d let Dean be Dean, drink and suffer without comment, but this drunken bout had some consequences for Sam.

Right, he wasn’t gonna ever think about that again. It was just a... a thing. It happened, it was an isolated incident, and it was over. He’d just have to make sure that Dean didn’t get drunk, or that he got laid soon, or both.

* * *

Dean dropped his hand and turned his head to glare at his brother.

"No. No. Ass." He answered the younger man's questions in the order they were given. The first two weren't entirely true, but he certainly wasn't going to tell the younger man that just so Sam could say 'I told you so'. The last was definitely true however.

"What got your panties in a twist?" The elder man grumbled as he pushed himself up in the bed. Making another face at the dried mess in his jeans and things sticking awkwardly and uncomfortably.

God, he could still…

Dean hadn't drank nearly enough to forget the argument they'd had in the bar or how he'd had his brother pinned up against a tree afterward. Nor could he seem to forget how strong his brother's scent had filled his senses, standing that close to him. He could still smell his brother, all over him, like… he still had him pinned up against that damn tree even though Sam was sitting feet away from him. So strong he could practically _taste_ him.

He knew this had to be part of the whole werewolf thing, all of his senses sharpened to acute levels, but Jesus Christ, he smelled like he had been _rolling_ around in his brother or something.

"I'm going to take a shower." Dean informed the younger man almost distractedly as he got up and limped his way into the bathroom. He needed to wash his brother's scent off him right the fuck now because… it kept making him think of the dreams he'd had, and something just told him not to go there, he wouldn't like what he found.

* * *

  
_Panties in a twist_. Sam made a face. Dean was the master of finding his weak point, even when he didn’t realize it. There was a bright side though... a silver lining in all of this. Dean didn’t remember, he really didn’t, which made all of it a lot easier to deal with.

“Shower. Best idea you’ve had yet,” he answered, unable to keep the sarcastic edge out of his voice.

Once the door to bathroom banged closed, he shut the lid of the laptop and put it on the nightstand. Dad hadn’t even been gone twenty four hours and he was already worrying about how quickly he’d get the help they needed for Dean. Listing all of the changes in Dean’s behavior had hit home the fact that Dean was different, and he’d just get more different every day. His brothers controlling edge, the way his nostrils occasionally flared as if he was using his sense of smell, the wild look that sometimes flashed in his eyes reminded Sam of someone’s blog about the stages of werewolfhood. He’d discounted it as a work of fiction, but when he went back to it... he wasn’t so sure, and he’d started to log the changes in Dean the same way.

Eventually getting off the bed, he walked to the window and stretched while looking outside. It was getting dark, and he’d missed breakfast and lunch. He should just go get them dinner.

Glancing at the bathroom door, he grabbed his wallet from the table, and headed out toward the small diner next door.

* * *

Dean stood in the shower, his eyes closed, and his head bent underneath the spray just letting the hot water run over his head and the back of his neck. Letting it relax his tight muscles. Rinsing away the evidence of his dreams, and the smell of his brother clinging stubbornly to his skin.

Too bad it couldn’t do anything to rinse away the confusion he felt.

Why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about Sam? He didn’t think he’d ever been so… aware… of the younger man in his whole life. Sure, he’d always watched out for his brother. Took care of him. Made sure nothing could hurt him. From the monster under the bed, to bullies at school, to the real monsters Dad taught them how to fight when they got older.

Sure, he’d missed Sam terribly when his brother left, but… If he could just chalk it up to missing his brother or something because he hadn’t seen him in such a long time, that would be one thing, but he knew that wasn’t it.

For one thing, when he’d had his brother pinned up against that tree with his body, knowing the younger man was all but helpless, dominating him, a part of him had been… excited. Owning him… He’d never been so possessive of Sam before. Sam was his little brother, he took care of him, he didn’t _own_ him.

And when he’d woken up that one morning and Sam had accused him of kissing him… He’d been confused and embarrassed by the dream he’d had, but Dean could clearly remember the desire he’d felt from that dream. How good the hard male body beneath him had felt. His brother’s lips warm and welcoming, opening for him as Sam clung to him, moaning into his mouth.

Remembering that dream and superimposing it over the vague images he was beginning to recall from his drunken dreams earlier had his heart hammering and his body flushing with arousal so fast he gasped in shock. Shoving the images and feelings away ruthlessly.

For god’s sake! It was his brother he was thinking about! Not some… some random chick… his _brother_! Christ! Was he _that_ horny? Maybe he should have taken Cassandra up on one of her ‘offers’ after all if he was this bad now…

Dean made a face of disgust at the thought of the werewolf bitch and turned the knobs on the shower so it was blasting ice cold water now for good measure. He finished his shower quickly and was shivering by the time he stepped out and dried off, but at least he’d taken care of his less than pure thoughts about his brother. He could think clearly again, and that was the important thing. No more alcohol for him, at least, not as much as he’d had…

Getting laid might not be a bad idea either.

All the calm he thought he’d found took a flying leap out the window as soon as he opened the bathroom door and realized Sam was gone. It wasn’t as though it were out of the ordinary. His brother could have just stepped outside, or gone to get them dinner, or something. He had absolutely no reason to be worried, or angry, but he was both. The reaction was anything but normal, he knew his brother didn’t need his fucking permission to leave the room but…

A low growl left his throat as he went over to his duffel and quickly threw on some clean clothes. He was out the motel door less than a minute later, half expecting the younger man to be just outside talking on the phone with Dad or something, but when he wasn’t Dean growled again softly. His eyes darting around, there wasn’t many places his brother could have gone on foot since they didn’t have a car. He sniffed the air, and then his eyes locked on the diner not far away.

Dean made his way as quickly to the diner as his bum leg allowed him to. Pushing open the door, and there was Sam, standing at the counter. A few strides and he was standing next to his brother, his hand reaching out to grasp the younger man’s arm tightly before he realized what he was doing and relaxed his grip but not his hold.

“Don’t run off like that again.” He told Sam in a low, almost warning, voice.

* * *

Sam turned and gave Dean a ‘what the hell’ look, and pulled his arm back. “Who’s running off?” He didn’t like Dean’s tone, not even a little. “Stop playing dad and, if anything, you’re the one who’s supposed to stay in the room.” Deliberately ignoring the warning in Dean’s eyes, he looked back up at the board. Sometimes getting back to normal was a matter of acting normal and not acknowledging the little things that might be ‘out of place.’

“Figured you’d be starved by now. How about a pastrami sandwich, no onions,” his mouth pulled into a smile, “and a salad to balance it off and, you know… try to be a bit healthy?” Yeah, yeah, he knew a request for dessert was coming too.

* * *

Dean’s eyes narrowed a little and his jaw clenched when the younger man pulled away from him and told him to ‘stop playing dad’. Reminding him that _he_ was the one who wasn’t supposed to leave the room. Especially since Sam leaving the room wasn’t what pissed him off the most. It was Sam leaving the room without telling him… asking him… or letting him know where he was going. What if something had happened…

_He’s a grown man, for Christ sake. Not a two year old anymore. Get a grip._ A voice inside ‘reminded’ him and it only pissed him off more.

Dean took a deep breath and blew it out, glancing up at the menu board when his brother pointed it out and the elder man finally realized just how hungry he really was. He frowned again and gave the younger man a mild glare when Sam ‘suggested’ what he get for dinner.

“Bacon cheeseburger, extra onions, cheese fries, and fuck your salad.” Dean replied with a cocky grin. He still hadn’t quite forgiven Sam for the whole oatmeal incident, or the other healthy shit he’d been forcing him to eat the last couple of days. Well, he was getting something extra artery clogging to make up for it.

“I’m going to find a seat. Get me some pie too.” He told the younger man over his shoulder as he went to find a booth to sit at, not really waiting for Sam to answer. Now that he was out of the room he didn’t have any intention of going back just yet.

* * *

Staring at Dean as he left, Sam shook his head. Impossible… his brother was impossible. But then he should already know that.

“Next.”

Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the counter. “Two hamburgers, chilli cheese fries, _two_ side salads, and some…” he looked up at the menu, “apple pie with a side of vanilla ice cream.” He selected drinks and took his wallet out. “We’re sitting right over there,” he pointed at Dean.

“We have waitresses for that.”

“Yeah… I know, _he_ decided to eat here.” Giving an innocent shrug, Sam paid and headed into the restaurant seating area.

Pulling his chair out and dropping down on it, Sam studied Dean’s face. “Shouldn’t you be suffering from alcohol poisoning or something? There’s no justice in this world.” At Dean’s dark look, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so damned grumpy.” Hopefully Dean wasn’t gonna be as hard to handle now as he’d been in the morning when he was stone cold sober, and later, when he’d been so drunk he’d… Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, he put his hand to his mouth and coughed.

“Dean? Tell me about the werewolves.” He met Dean’s gaze. “I’ve been seeing some references to older or experienced werewolves who are able to control shifting. You think that’s possible based on what you saw.” Somehow, asking him about this was easier out here in public than in their room alone. He didn’t know why, but he sensed he was on dangerous ground here.

* * *

Dean gave his brother a look that was clearly not amused when the younger man came over to sit with him and complaining about his lack of a hangover. Just because his lightweight of a brother couldn’t hold his damn liquor, drunk as a skunk after three beers and paying for it the next day.

The elder man smirked and flipped his brother the bird when Sam called him ‘grumpy’.

“Well, if I’m Grumpy, then you’re Dopey.” Dean replied, taking a drink from his soda when the waitress brought it over. She wasn’t bad, a cute little redhead with a decent rack, giving him a flirty look, but Dean spared her no more than a brief glance before turning his attention back to his brother. She pouted walked off with a huff.

_Tell me about the werewolves…_

Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother’s question. A little surprised by it considering he figured the younger man would be all ‘hush, hush’ about the werewolf thing and they were in a… Ok, not so crowded diner, but not exactly empty either.

He didn’t know why the question made him so uncomfortable. But then again, the six months he’d spent captive of the fucking freaks wasn’t exactly his fondest memories. He didn’t really want to talk about it, but Sam wasn’t asking him about it really either. Just about werewolves in general, and if there was anything Dean was somewhat of an ‘expert’ now on, it was werewolves.

Dean sighed heavily and took another drink. Wishing it was something a little harder than coke.

“Based on what I saw? Yes.” Dean looked down at his glass. He probably could have just left it at that, and not elaborated, but he supposed if one ‘good’ thing that could come out of this was other hunters knew more about werewolves…

“There was one. Daniel. Big, ugly ass mother fucker. He was in charge of us. When they kept us in the pens between fights. Made sure we behaved ourselves. Didn’t try to escape.”

Dean made a face at the memory.

“Cassandra came to ‘inspect’ us one day. See who she wanted to see in the fights that night. One of the other prisoners started mouthing off at her, really pissing her off, though she didn’t show it but narrowing her eyes.” He sighed and shook his head.

“She told Daniel to get rid of him and right there in front of us, high noon he changed. Not just fangs and claws but the whole shebang, completely wolfed out. Ripped the poor guy’s head clean off his shoulders…”

* * *

From the way Dean grew a bit quiet and looked away, Sam knew he was pushing Dean to go places that he didn’t want. It had to be done though, they needed to know as much as they could and if that meant digging until Dean snapped, so be it.

A cold chill went down Sam’s back as he imagined the scenes unfolding the way Dean told it. Knowing Dean, the pain from the fights in the pen were nothing compared to the frustration his brother must have felt at being at the werewolves’ mercy, and of not being able to defend others… save them. Dean might deny it, but he definitely had a hero complex.

**“There was one. Daniel. Big, ugly ass mother fucker. He was in charge of us. When they kept us in the pens between fights. Made sure we behaved ourselves. Didn’t try to escape.”**

That hadn’t worked out too well in Dean’s case since Sam knew his brother had attempted several escapes. He tried to keep a lid on the anger that started to simmer within him. Guess he was more like dad than he’d like to believe because every once in a while, all he could think about was taking them out for what they did to Dean.

When Dean mentioned Cassandra, Sam’s gaze flew to Dean’s face. She was the bitch whose teeth marked Dean’s thigh.

**“She told Daniel to get rid of him and right there in front of us, high noon he changed. Not just fangs and claws but the whole shebang, completely wolfed out. Ripped the poor guy’s head clean off his shoulders…”**

“That’s great!” Sam flashed his teeth as he smiled, and held onto his hope, despite the strange look his brother was giving him. Neither one could talk while the waitress set their food down in front of them, and buzzed around Dean for a few more minutes. Sam rolled his eyes… what else was new.

When she left, he leaned in over the table. “Not that he ripped the guy’s head off, but Dean… now we know one that can shift at will. If we were to trap him, and our worst case happened,” he couldn’t bring himself to say it, but they both knew worst case meant they were unable to stop Dean from turning. “We could force him to train you to control shifting. Look man, I know you don’t want to think about that,” he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and looked intently into his eyes, “but one of us has to.”

* * *

That’s great?

Dean couldn’t help but stare at his brother as though he’d grown a second _and_ third head. A look he usually only reserved for the people he met that he thought were either complete idiots or complete lunatics.

Since he knew his brother wasn’t an idiot… under normal circumstances at least… he had to come to the conclusion that the younger man had simply lost his mind.

The waitress came with their food then, preventing Dean from answering his brother right away. Hovering around, trying to behave flirty again, and didn’t leave until Dean threw her a nasty glare for her efforts.

“Oh yeah?” He asked finally, shrugging off his brother’s hand from his shoulder. “Well, _stop_ thinking about it.”

God, he couldn’t believe… what the hell was his brother thinking! He leaned in close to his brother, narrowing his eyes.

“You just don’t get it, do you? Yeah, the guy can change at will, whenever he damn well pleases. Do you have any idea why? Because he was a fucking _animal_ even when he was ‘human’, Sam.”

The elder man sat back and turned to look out the window, shaking his head.

“That’s what happens eventually. If you live long enough. When you completely give in to the curse. You don’t control _it_ , it controls you. That wasn’t him controlling the wolf, that was the wolf being able to take control of him whenever the hell it wants. You’re saying _that’s_ what you want for me?”

* * *

Between the expressions of disbelief directed at him, and the patronizing way in which Dean talked to him, Sam slowly simmered. By the time Dean was done, Sam’s nostrils were flaring and he was ready to light into his brother.

“You know damn well that’s not what I want. Let me ask you a question, Dean, why the fuck are you so ready to give up? Huh?” He leaned forward, locking gazes with his brother. “Everything I say, you’re all, no, nope, won’t work, can’t do it. Why are you so fucking quick to discount everything, prejudge it, close the book on it.”

Sitting straight again, he took a deep breath. “It’s almost as if you’re afraid. Afraid of hope. Afraid to live.” He shook his head, “but don’t you go trying to take that away from me, cause it’s not happening. You can talk down to me, pretend I’m still that whiny kid in elementary, you can belittle my ideas… do your best, but I’m not giving up.”

His gaze dropped to his food, and suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore. “You know what? I can do this with or without you.” Oh he knew full well Dean wouldn’t like that at all, but that was just too bad. He was sick of this.

“There’s lore out there that says a person can control the werewolf in them. You didn’t see it, fine. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. A tranq gun, some truth serum… I can get any of them to sing.” Yeah, he didn’t really mean all alone, he’d need dad and his contacts, but he had to make his point.

* * *

Dean could actually feel his blood pressure rising steadily as he locked eyes with the younger man across the table from him. His own narrowing dangerously, sparks practically flashing between them in a furious test of wills. Dean growing more furious with every word his brother spoke, but either Sam didn’t notice (unlikely), or he simply didn’t care.

Until finally Dean reached out to grasp his brother’s wrist in a bruising grip. Knowing it was painful, but he simply couldn’t stop his fingers from digging into flesh and bone brutally. It was either that, or reach over the table and snap his little brother’s neck.

“Don’t you fucking talk to me like I’m an idiot, or I’m just being Mr. Glass-Half-Empty. I haven’t been on some fucking spa vacation, or frat party, for the last six months!” He all but growled. His fingers tightened around the younger man’s wrist even more, and he actually felt the bones shift a little but he still didn’t let up on the pressure. He needed his brother to listen to him. Needed him to _understand_.

“You have no fucking idea what I saw. What I went through! You think you’re such a damn expert on werewolves now because you read a lot of crap on some stupid web sites? The only one of us who isn’t being ‘realistic’ about this is _you_. So, fine, do your fucking research, and read your lore, but when it comes down to it you still don’t know jack shit!”

Finally he released his brother’s wrist and sat back.

“Maybe I am afraid. But guess what, you’re not afraid enough, and I’m not going to let you get yourself killed trying to ‘save’ me!”

* * *

Sam's eyes widened at the brutal force with which his wrist was grabbed. If he hadn't been so angry himself, he might have been afraid of the way Dean's eyes drilled into him and the sheer fury behind the words he growled out.

_Frat party. Right... low blow,_ Even though he didn't try to pull his hand back, the sudden shock of Dean's thumb pressing at his joint and threatening to pop it had him wincing and mentally cursing. If they'd been outside or in their room, there was no way he'd have taken this. No way.

As soon as Dean released him, he rubbed his wrist and looked around to confirm they hadn't drawn attention, then his gaze flicked back. "Forget half empty, you don't even _see the glass_ Dean."

He got up, bumping into the table, making the plates clatter in the process. "And don't ever put your hands on me like that again or you won't like the result." Grabbing his drink, not caring it wasn't in a paper cup, he walked away, almost running over the waitress in the process.

She rushed to the table. "Should I wrap that up 'to go' for him? Anything else I can do for you? _Anything?"_  


* * *

As Dean watched his brother storm out of the diner he felt his heart fall somewhere down about the center of the earth.

He couldn’t believe what he had just done… almost done… He could have snapped his brother’s wrist right there and he’d been so angry he almost hadn’t cared. What the fuck was wrong with him? He couldn’t have a single fucking conversation with Sam without snapping at him, or hurting him…

It was like he just couldn’t control himself. Everything Sam said set him off. He knew his brother was only trying to help him, because he cared, but he was so damn afraid what would happen to Sam if he tried any of his crazy ideas. Tried to save him, when he couldn’t be saved, and ended up getting himself killed.

It hadn’t been this bad when Dad had been here. But now…

Dean wanted to run after the younger man. Apologize. Beg his forgiveness. He didn’t want things to be like this between them. He had less than a month and he just wanted…

He looked up at the waitress when she rushed over, his already non-existent patience ready to snap completely, and how he reigned himself in he’d never known. Maybe it was the sudden realization of what he had to do. Now that Sam was angry enough not to be watching him like a hawk. He’d been foolish to believe he’d get a month. He was lucky he’d gotten these few days. He didn’t want this to be the last thing they ever said to each other, but… you don’t always get what you want, do you?

Dean looked down at the food neither of them had touched, and then back to the girl. Managing a fake smile.

“Sure, Sweetheart, you can do something for me. Wrap them both up, and if he comes back… give him your condolences for his brother.” Dean somehow managed to keep most of the sarcasm and bitterness from his voice through force of will alone, as he stood, and pushed his way past the waitress. Walking out of the diner and heading in the opposite direction of the motel as quickly as he could manage with his bum leg.

Unfortunately he didn’t have a gun, or anything silver for that matter, which was a shame because he liked to be thorough. But he was sure he could think of something. A bridge or a high enough overpass, that had to do the job. Then his Dad and Sam could finally get on with their lives.

* * *

For a long time, Sam stood leaning against the motel wall, staring into the forest. He was in the back of the motel, where there was no walkway and no people, just thinking and trying to calm himself down. He hadn’t been this pissed off since… yeah since the last time he was pissed at dad. That was common, but this… well he didn’t usually get _this_ mad at Dean.

He wanted his brother back. He wanted him to fight for his life, for whatever they could salvage. Cure or no cure. And if he couldn’t have that, he wanted Dean to at least let him try… let him find a way. He was sick of being beaten down and told he knew nothing. It wasn’t true. He might not be the great hunter his dad and brother were, but he wasn’t inept, and he sure as hell wasn’t as careless or clueless as Dean tried to make him out to be.

Then there was the… He took another breath, and touched his still sore wrist. How much manhandling was he supposed to take? First against the tree, then… he bit his lip at the thought of what had happened on the bed. Okay, that wasn’t his fault. He’d been drunk, and dreaming. But at dinner, he’d been out of control… over nothing.

If he hadn’t been just as angry as Dean, he might have felt fear at the savage way he’d gripped him, and the merciless look in his eyes. He mentally cursed him, and looked up at the pitch black sky. Did it have to do with the tides of the moon, was that what this aggression was about? And if it was, would it get worse?

No, because was just going to fucking have to learn to control that temper. Now semi-calm, Sam walked around the building and set the glass cup in front of one of the motel room doors. Glancing at the diner, he saw that their table had been vacated, and headed to their room.

Two minutes later, he was in the diner demanding to know where Dean was. The message the waitress gave him had him blanching. “Which way did he go? What do you mean you don’t know?” Cursing under his breath, he ran outside. Maybe it was joke made in bad taste. Maybe he’d headed for the bar. No, not without money. And he knew that was wishful thinking anyway.

An icy cold hand clutched his gut. The lake. He’d told Dean about it this morning. He started running again, through the woods, almost stumbling over the roots. The only thing he had going for him was that Dean couldn’t run, but still. As he got closer, he started to shout, “Dean? Dean?” Over and over, until he was hoarse, and it sank in that either Dean wasn’t here, or … no.

Bending over as he caught his breath, he started to think of scenarios. If Dean were going to do something nuts, he’d go for the gun. But he didn’t have the room key. He couldn’t drive himself off a cliff or into a tree… no car. He could stand in the road. Holy shit, no, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave a random driver with that much guilt.

And then Sam remembered the bridge on the road to the motel. But Dean wouldn’t know about it. He’d been in no shape to see where they were on their drive here. Then again, he’d walked the opposite way when they’d gone to the bar… so he might explore a new route. “Fuck.”

One again, he took off a dead run, lengthening his strides as far as he could. Each lungful of air became painful as he strained to get to the bridge. His muscles burned, hid heart worked overtime, but all he could think about was he could be losing his brother right this moment.

It felt like hours, but Sam reached the end of the bridge and saw Dean father down, staring over its side. He hadn’t climbed the railing yet. “Dean! Dean!” he shouted, slowing down, and putting one hand against the railing as fog hanged in the air marking each of his heavy breaths. “Don’t. Just…" he pointed at Dean, "...don’t.”

* * *

Dean stood in the middle of the bridge, leaning against the edge, his arms against the railing, looking relaxed as he stared down at the white rushing water far below. To anyone else it might have looked as though he were just enjoying the scenery. At least, it would if it wasn't so dark no one else would have been able to see the scenery, but the dimness of the evening light didn't impair him at all.

It was impossible to tell how deep the water was from here, but Dean knew at this height it would hardly matter. Hitting the water would be like hitting cement, and if the fall didn't kill him on impact then it would surely break practically every bone in his body and he'd drown soon after. Dean shivered a little in the chilly air. Not the way he would have wanted to go, but you don't always get what you want, do you?

He sighed heavily, watching his breath form a little white cloud in front of him. Smiling bitterly as he watched the moon rise slowly over the horizon. It was huge. Orange red. A little like old blood. Fitting he supposed that this was the last thing he'd ever see. The universe was not without a sense of humor.

He wished his last thoughts could have been more...poetic or something, remembering all the 'good ol times' or some shit like that. But he supposed it was no surprise his thoughts were only filled with regret. That he was stupid enough to get caught by the werewolves in the first place. That he hadn't managed to escape before they... she... turned him. That he hadn't just killed himself somehow before Sam and Dad had finally found him.

He regretted not being able to say goodbye to his Dad. Or even to Sammy. God, why couldn't he have thought of some 'better' message to leave his brother. _Take care of yourself_ or _Its not your fault_ because god knew Sam would try to blame himself for this. Hell, even a cheesy _I love you_ or _I'm sorry_ would have been better... If he'd had the time, he would have written the younger man a whole god damned note, but it wasn't like he'd actually thought this out before hand. But when opportunity knocked...

Dean laughed bitterly.

_Stop wasting time. Just get it over with._

Yeah, best idea he'd had all day. Dean sighed again as he recalled his brother's words, and his expression turned pained. Blinking back tears as he straightened, his hands gripping the edge of the railing tightly as he took a deep breath and held it.

It was then that he heard his name shouted from the other end of the bridge and Dean mentally cursed as he turned his head to look at his brother. The younger man was out of breath. His chest heaving, and covered in sweat. He must have run the entire way here, and he was holding on to the railing, a little like Dean, like that was the only thing holding him up. Though if it was relief that made the other man weak, or exhaustion, Dean didn't know.

_Don't._

Dean barely made out the word over his brother's ragged breathing, and Dean found himself torn where moments ago he'd been determined. If there was one thing he didn't want, however, it was his brother to have to watch this. He knew he could let go of the railing now, walk away, back to his brother, and call the younger man an idiot for overreacting.

But then he remembered the diner. Outside the bar. No. This might be his only chance. What if next time he lost his temper he really hurt Sam? Or Sam got hurt or killed trying one of his crazy stunts, like capturing another werewolf, trying to save him. Or he actually made it to the full moon and he changed...

He wanted to tell his bother to go back to the fucking motel, not to watch this, but he knew like hell that was going to happen. Dean mentally calculated the distance between them. Trying to figure out what chance he had of doing this, climbing over the railing with his injured leg before Sam could reach him given how exhausted the younger man looked. He figured his odds were pretty good.

Dean smiled at his brother sadly.

"Goodbye Sammy." He said softly, he knew his brother wouldn't be able to hear him, but that didn't really matter now either. Dean moved fast then. Hoisting himself onto the edge, cement and cold metal digging into his palms, scraping his knuckles. He teetered there, nothing but air in front of him and a long drop and crushing death waiting below. He closed his eyes as he started to fall forward.

* * *

Sam felt his heart lurch. He didn't even need to hear the words, but the look was enough.

"Dean!" he shouted, pushing off from the railing and running again, his eyes laser-focused on his brother. No... no he couldn't let him go, not like this.

He lunged just as Dean started to go over, blindly reaching out to grab at anything. The railing slammed into his stomach, knocking all the air out of him, but the pain was nothing... nothing when closing his hands and gripping tight... he knew he had Dean. One arm, one shoulder, and Dean was beating is legs, trying to make him let go... dragging him down.

No way. Sam didn't open his mouth, he just stared into Dean's eyes, struggling to pull him up, and threatening to go over with him. His arms burned. His stomach was sure to be bruised. But he had this second chance... no third, and there had to be a reason... a reason Dean could cheat death so many times. If only he'd see it.

Dean suddenly seemed to still. The steam from their breaths mingled. Even now, they were in a test of wills and Sam just couldn't believe it. He worked his jaw. "Answer me this, Dean. How do you feel about mom's death?" He breathed heavily, struggling to maintain his grip. "And then tell me how you'd feel about it if she'd killed herself."

He let the words hang between them, not yielding in any way. Not in the way his stare drilled into his brother, not in the knowledge that he was right and Dean was dead wrong, and not in the way he fought to get him back over the railing.

* * *

It was kind of funny. Dean hated flying. Absolutely hated it, so it was a really good thing that Dad had always drove them everywhere and they never left the country. But when he'd stepped off the edge of the bridge he hadn't been afraid. It was actually kind of a relief that it wasn't so bad. On some level he knew the landing would be far less pleasant, but hopefully it would only hurt for a second and then it would be over…

The abrupt stop, when it came, was a lot sooner than Dean had expected and it did hurt. A lot.

He slammed bodily into the side of the bridge. The blow knocking all the air from his lungs and his arm wrenching painfully. When he felt his shoulder pop out of its socket from the force of everything he would have screamed if he could, but that would have taken air first and he had none.

Tears of pain in his eyes he stared up at the hand locked around his arm with utter disbelief at first, following that hand up an arm to the younger man's face. His brother hanging half over the edge of the railing, the other man's finger gripping onto him even tighter than Dean had in the diner. Holding onto him for dear life. Refusing to let go.

Sam had caught him. He couldn't believe it.

No… god damn it… no!

Dean began struggling. Kicking his legs, trying to twist his arm out of his brother's grip, break Sam's hold on him. He had to do this! He had to! Why couldn't Sam fucking see that!

He thought he felt himself slip a little lower, but no. Sam's fingers were still digging bruises into his flesh into the exact same place, and the elder man realized in horror that he was dragging his brother over the side. Sam wasn't letting him go, his brother was going to let him drag him over with him, rather than release him.

Dean grew utterly still then. Panting heavily. Pain still robbing his voice, when he wanted to beg Sam to just let him go. He was going to fall, god damn it, if he didn't let him go! His heart finally hammering with fear in his chest, but not for himself, for Sam. When his brother finally spoke however, it nearly stopped all together.

It wasn't the same… not nearly the same and his brother god damned knew it! Their mother had been killed by some kind of evil son of a bitch, and even if… if… Their mother hadn't been a monster! He was a monster now, even if Sam didn't want to see it. He was just like one of those god damned things that they hunted. He was just like one of those things that… had killed their mother… What had to happen before Sam would see that? Did he have to kill Dad? Did he have to kill Sam…?

He was going to kill Sam. If he didn't help his brother get him back up, they were both going to go down, and with a muffled curse Dean now fought to hold on. To twist his wrist around enough to grab onto Sam's arm. His other hand scrambling around, trying to find a handhold somewhere.

To take his weight off of Sam as much as he could. To give his brother back enough leverage so the younger man could pull them both back up. For a few horrifying seconds he wasn't sure he could manage it, and the pain in dislocated shoulder was growing steadily worse, making it hard to think, hard to keep reaching, keep holding on. Finally his scraped fingers managed to reach enough to grasp onto the ledge, and Dean fought to pull himself up by it.

* * *

For a heart beat, Sam thought it was over. That Dean had changed his mind too late... too late for Sam’s tired muscles to do the work they needed to pull him up.

No. He expected no less of himself than of his brother. He wouldn’t give up. Grunting with pain and exertion, he half dragged half allowed Dean to climb up him like a rope, until he came over edge and dropped down. Dean was standing... barely ... but at least he was on the right side of the railing.

Sam was on the verge of collapsing, himself, but all the fear, the anxiety, the sheer terror of what Dean had just put him through came to an explosive head. His fist surged out and connected with Dean’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. Sam was literally shaking as he stood over him, looking down. “You can keep your fucking _condolences_ ,” he ground out, “my brother has balls the size of Texas, and I’m just waiting on _him_ to get back here and do what he always does. Fight back.”

Staggering until he was against the railing, Sam slid down to the ground, sitting with his back against it and taking in deep breaths. He hurt everywhere, inside and out. Lungs burning, arms and stomach aching, but mostly he hurt in those places that you couldn’t see or touch. “I want him back. He always knew what to do,” he whispered to himself, so low, no human ears could hear.

* * *

Really, the last thing Dean had been expecting once he was standing on solid ground again was to find himself knocked off his feet. Though he supposed in hind sight, it probably shouldn't have been much of a surprise. He landed against the asphalt hard with no way to really break his fall. Re-bruising what was already bruised to hell, and his jaw now throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

He looked up at his brother with wide eyes, blood dripping from his split lip, and clutching his injured shoulder. Though he wasn't sure what hurt worse, his physical injuries or the verbal lashing Sam was giving him now.

Waiting on him to fight back… All that was really left he _could_ do was damage control. Why couldn't Sam see that… What was the point in fighting a lost cause? Then again… when had that ever stopped him before?

The elder man watched his brother slump down against the railing, his entire posture one of defeat and pain Dean had never wanted to see on Sam. He felt his gut twist painfully at the sight. Even more so when he heard the words his brother probably had no intention of letting him hear, however the younger man had no idea how keen his senses had become.

_I wish I knew where he was, Sammy. I really do. I don't think he exists anymore…_

He still thought it was a lost cause, but he had never abandoned his brother in a fight before… and he couldn't now. He would just have to try… somehow… He understood now, that his brother simply wasn't going to let him go. Come hell or high water, no matter what it took, Sam wasn't going to give up. Dean could either help him, or bring Sam down with him. There were no other choices.

Dean sighed heavily and pushed himself up with a grunt with his good arm. Shifting around so he could sit against the concrete wall next to the younger man but not touching him. Licking his bloody lip with a wince as he turned to look at his brother.

"Ok, Sam." He finally said softly, for the first time not saying it to simply placate his brother. "Ok…"

* * *

For a long time, they sat there, in silence. Bodies broken, souls... Sam didn’t even know if they were on the mend or it was just a trick. Searching Dean’s face for the truth, he just couldn’t be sure... and that kept him scared, even if the anger drained out of him.

“Ok,” he eventually echoed, nodding. He pressed his elbows back against the railing and started to push up. “Carry me back?” he asked Dean who looked like he was in worse condition.

* * *

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, but there was no real heat in the glare.

“Bitch.” He muttered, shaking his head as he started to struggle up as well. Not having a very easy time of it at all and he swore under his breath a few times until he finally managed to get back on his feet. Holding his injured arm with his other one as he started to limp slowly back to the motel.

Oh, yeah, he was going to feel great in the morning.

Sooner or later he was going to have to pop his shoulder back into place too, and he knew from experience that was never fun. There was no way he was about to complain about it, however. If it were up to him, he’d rather forget what had just happened. Pretend it didn’t happen. He knew that was wishful thinking though. Sam will never let him live this down. Never.

Boy was he going to get it when Dad came back…

Dean sighed softly, turning his head. His eyes once more catching sight of the blood red moon rising slowly over the trees, and the elder man felt a shiver run through his body that had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

* * *

“Jerk,” Sam automatically answered.

They had to look like the walking wounded as they made their way back alongside of the road at an excruciatingly slow pace. They didn’t say much, either conserving their energy or afraid they might say too much.

As they finally started to pass the diner, Sam rolled his eyes when Dean pushed the door open and went inside. He didn’t even have to ask... he knew, even before Dean came out with the doggy bag.

Tiredly, he walked ahead to their room and shoved the door open. He didn’t get how his brother kept his appetite, no matter what. As Dean started opening the food up, he shook his head again. “You can have mine.”

Walking into the bathroom, he wet a washcloth and threw it at Dean. The blood on the corner of his mouth only served to remind him of how he’d punched him. He wasn’t sorry, Dean had deserved it. But he hated his own loss of self control.

Now all he wanted was a hot shower to wash off the sweat and maybe relax his strained muscles. Leaving the door wide open, he gave Dean a look. If he so much as tried to leave the room...

Then he got the shower going, mentally complaining about how his baby sitting duties had just gotten harder. He’d have to sleep with one eye open or something. One by one, he dropped his jacket and shirts on the sink, then kicked off his shoes and lost his pants and shorts. There was a thick, red mark across his stomach and he knew it would be blue by morning.

Opening the shower door again, he stepped inside, closing his eyes as the hot water ran down his head and shoulders, washing the grime away. He just stood there, not even soaping for a while, letting the water ease his tension, even as he deliberately made sure he wasn’t so relaxed that he wouldn’t hear doors or windows from the other room.

* * *

Dean caught the wet rag thrown at him with his good hand, muttering a thanks his brother probably didn’t even hear because Sam had gone into the bathroom and… left the door wide open. The elder man frowned at the look his brother gave him. Like after all that he was going to try to ‘escape’ or something and go right back to the bridge.

He rolled his eyes and started in on his slightly lukewarm chilly cheese fries, not like that bothered him in the least, and they were still pretty damn good anyway. It took his mind off how much his shoulder hurt. He licked some cheese off his fingers, trying to concentrate on his meal, but almost against his will his eyes were drawn back to the open door of the bathroom.

His brother had already stripped off his shirts and he couldn’t seem to look away as the younger man stripped off his jeans. When Sam took off his boxers his mouth felt dry and he had a hard time swallowing. Dean tried to look away, but he just… couldn’t…

What the fuck…

When his brother got into the shower somehow he managed to tear his eyes away from Sam, breathing heavily and trying to ignore how tight his jeans suddenly felt. Dean looked down at his crotch like his dick was a traitor or something, then he stood suddenly. Deciding this was as good a time as any to pop his shoulder back into place.

Standing against the wall he took two deep breaths, then held it. Gripping his arm tightly with his good hand, as he jammed his shoulder hard back against the wall.

“Shit! Fuck!” The elder man cursed loudly in pain, but he felt his shoulder pop back into place so at least he wouldn’t have to hit it again. It felt ‘better’ afterwards, but it still didn’t feel very good. At least he could move his arm again and it had taken care of his ‘other’ problem pretty damn well too.

* * *

Sam almost went crashing through the glass shower door in his rush to get out and see what happened. “Dean?!” He was three steps into the bedroom and as naked as the day he was born, before he saw Dean leaning against the wall, cradling his shoulder.

Putting two and two together, he let out a sigh of relief. It was that or be angry again, and he was all out of anger for the night. Wiping his hand over his wet face, and then seeing the puddle he left, he turned back and got a bath towel from the bathroom. Drying off quickly, he draped it around his waist and came back inside. “A warning might have been nice. You scared the hell out of me.” He didn’t say _again._

Strolling to his bed, he sat down and leaned against the pillows. “You alright? We’ve got pain meds.” He was halfway thinking of taking a Tylenol himself. “You don’t have to sit there and suffer, you know?”

He was so fucking tired, but also afraid of going to sleep before Dean. It was gonna be a damn long night.

* * *

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his brother shout his name like that. His heart hammering against his ribs at a jackhammer pace. The first thought that filtered through his panicked brain, of course, that something had happened to Sam.

He was about to rush into the bathroom to see what the hell was going on but the younger man had already beat him to it. Running into the main room, dripping and stark naked, and Dean realized quickly that Sam must have been thinking the same thing when he heard him shout.

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved, foolish, or slightly irritated for the heart attack Sam had almost given him, however any complaint he might have voiced died unspoken when another switch in his brain clicked.

Sam had run into the room _naked_ and _wet_ and Dean felt his blood pressure skyrocket for a different reason as he stared at his brother. His eyes nearly falling out of his head they were so wide and his jaw hanging open like he was trying to catch flies or something.

Jesus Christ… Jesus fucking Christ…

It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d ever seen his brother naked or anything, but his body’s reactions were so far from brotherly it frightened him. His boner was back in full force and, fuck, he felt a burning desire to close the distance between them and _lick_ some of that warm water dripping down his brother’s chest from his skin.

Christ, what kind of a fucking _pervert_ was he? That he couldn’t stop thinking about his brother like that! Dreams were one thing, because, let’s face it, dreams were weird anyway and often beyond control. But he was _awake_ now damn it!

Sam seemed to finally realize his state of undress and went back into the bathroom, and Dean realized he hadn’t been breathing that whole time when he was finally able to suck in a desperate gasp. Shaking his head, coming to his senses, and once more glaring at his traitorous dick.

His brother returned, thankfully, with a towel but that wasn’t much better, and Dean forced himself not to look at his brother at all.

“I’m just peachy.” He answered Sam’s concern, trying to keep the frustration at himself out of his voice, not wanting Sam to get the wrong idea and sure as hell not wanting to explain it. He sighed and nodded a little however when the younger man mentioned the pain meds. Going over and grabbing the first aid kit sitting on the dresser. Pulling out a bottle and tossing a couple of pills into his mouth and dry swallowing them. Throwing the bottle to Sam next without really looking at him.

“I’m going to hit the sack.” Dean said then as he started to strip out of his clothing, struggling a little but he tried not to make it obvious. Not wanting Sam to annoyingly point out that he deserved every one of his aches and pains or something. Once he was down to his boxers, he slid under the covers of his bed, laying with his back to his brother, facing away from him. Away from the temptation the younger man shouldn’t be.

* * *

“Okay. G’night Dean.” He stared at Dean’s back for a long moment, then looked at the blank t.v. screen. Maybe he’d lucked out at last and would actually be able to get some sleep. For a moment, he contemplated just closing his eyes and forgetting about getting ready for bed first, but the light was on and the damn switch was near the door.

Groaning, he pushed himself off the bed and went to get some shorts on. Pulling them on, he finished running the towel through his hair and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. His eyes were drawn to the red mare on his throat reflected by the mirror, and his heart lurched as he automatically looked out the door at Dean’s still body. Nah, he hadn’t noticed. Finishing quickly, he popped a pill and hit the lights.

On his way back to his bed, he found himself standing next to Dean. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and looked down at his face mostly hidden by the dark. Tonight could have gone so different. He could be looking for his brother’s body right now, or burying it, or calling his father. His throat constricted as those unwelcome thoughts pushed their way in. Squeezing Dean’s shoulder lightly, he soundlessly pleaded with him not to do this again.

Moving the short distance to his own bed, he laid back and pulled only a sheet over himself.

*

All night long, he was dragged into dreams that came in fits and starts, bits and pieces. He’d lost his brother, that’s why he was wearing a black suit and tie and... but no, Dean was in suit too, smiling and raising a glass of whisky. It was important that Dean didn’t drink... he didn’t know why, but it was important. But trying to talk his brother out of it without having a reason, impossible.

The weight of a body pressed down over him, covering him. A mouth came down hard over his, kissing him until he was breathless. “Jess... Jess,” he whispered, but his hands were stroking a broad, masculine back and there wasn’t any softness in leg that was inserted between his, insistently pressing up against him and pinning him in place.

“Dean?” Hard firm lips moved messily against his. It was Dean. His complaint died on his lips as Dean’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and oh God.... he didn’t know it could feel like this, hadn’t imagined. Their tongues moved in tandem, stroking, tangling, fighting...

“Jess...” yeah, he focused on his leggy blonde. Forced his mind to see her even when the hands that groped him felt far too large, too heavy, too calloused to be hers. He drew in a ragged breath. “Please... please...” He tried to flip them around, because maybe if he was on top, it would all be normal again, it would be his girlfriend under him. Maybe...

* * *

Dean’s dreams were not pleasant in the least.

He was back in the pens. Killing those innocent people, their blood covering his hands while the werewolves cheered in amusement at the ‘sport’. Then the dream shifted, and it wasn’t just a random person’s blood on his hands anymore, it was Sam’s. He was staring down at his brother’s unmoving corpse. His throat ripped out. Dead eyes, wide and vacant, staring up at him.

He sat up straight in his bed, a scream of denial choking in his throat. His eyes immediately searching the darkness, and even when they found his brother lying safely in the other bed next to his, his breathing did not slow. His heart still pounding hard and fast in his chest. He was still shaking with fear, even as he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

It wasn’t working.

When he heard the younger man whimper softly in his sleep however, Dean’s expression shifted to concern. Forgetting his own distress for a moment, concentrating on his brother, as he pushed aside his covers and stood. Closing the small distance between their beds. Leaning over the younger man, his hand reaching out just as he heard Sam moan softly. He thought he heard his name…

Dean didn’t know whether it was his own fears, or the desire to ease his brother’s, but a second later he was crawling into the bed and laying down beside Sam. Something of a reversal of their positions when they had been kids, on the occasions they hadn’t shared a bed and the younger boy couldn’t sleep because of bad dreams, and Sammy would come to him for comfort.

He slid his arms around his brother’s waist, trying to offer as well as receive some of that comfort now like they had shared in the past. Pressing up against his brother’s back and burying his nose into the soft hair at the base of the younger man’s neck. Inhaling Sam’s scent and letting out a slow breath as his heart began to return to a more natural rhythm.

* * *

All night long, Sam dreamed, and wanted, and tried to repress, and called in turns to Dean and Jess. It was like he'd been on fire the entire time, with no relief. It wasn't a wonder that he woke with a raging hard on that sent one powerful message to his brain… bathroom… relief. He hadn't felt like this since he was a teen… waking with his breath catching and his cock pulsing between his legs.

He started to get up, but something was wrong. There was a weight pressing down on him. His momentary panic dissipated when he cracked his eyes open and found it was Dean. Then a secondary wave of panic washed over him. He had a hard on, and he was stuck under his brother. Could it get worse?

He took a couple of breaths and started to make out where all his parts were and where his brother's were. Hell, Dean was holding him around the waist and had his face buried in his neck. One of his legs was… shit, was that why he had such a bad case of morning wood?

Dean murmured near his ear, and a third wave of panic swept over Sam. No, Dean wasn't drunk… he couldn't be. There was a different explanation for this, one that wouldn't lead to a repeat of what had happened yesterday.

He tried to wiggle out from under Dean. Between the pressure in his groin and his frustration at his inability to get up, he finally shook Dean roughly. "Dean, get off me. What the hell!"

* * *

Dean grumbled a muffled curse against his brother’s skin. Between the rough shake and Sam’s rather irritating near shout in his ear, he wasn’t waking up in a very good mood. A shame since he’d been having pretty good dreams. Dreams that involved rough hands, and lots of smooth bare skin. Clutching strong flexing muscles and his brother moaning his name in pleasure over and over in his ear.

The dreams scattered away like dust floating in the sunlight however, despite how he tried to hang onto them. But he realized quickly enough the warmth beside him was real, he was damn comfortable, and it was too damned early to wake up so he stubbornly held onto Sam tighter. Pressing closer to him, rubbing his stubble rough cheek against the smooth skin of the younger man’s neck.

“Shut up. Go back to sleep.” He mumbled, barely coherently, still more than half asleep, into his brother’s throat. The tone of voice he used when he thought his brother was being particularly annoying just because he could. Then as he shifted, trying to get more comfortable so he could go back to sleep, he felt the hard press of his brother’s erection against his hip and he grinned slightly against Sam’s throat.

“I think someone is happy to see me.” He teased.

* * *

“Unh,” Sam almost swallowed his tongue when Dean shifted right over his erection. He started to push Dean up, but to no avail. His brother seemed to be burrowing closer and cracking jokes.

“Jerk! Get off me,” he tried to not to squeak and play into Dean’s game and give him and excuse to treat him like a child. “C’mon man, Dean!” He shoved hard, this time rolling toward his side and finally pushing his brother off though their legs were still tangled.

He felt a flush steal over his cheeks but internally protested. Dean was the one who should be embarrassed. “You wanna tell me what you’re doing here? My bed? And ah…. Take your legs back,” he gave Dean a frustrated look and tried to pull his own away.

* * *

Dean gave an undignified squawk when his brother shoved him unceremoniously off of him. Almost hard enough to send the elder man rolling out of the other side of the bed if their legs didn’t remain tangled together.

“What the hell, Sam!” he protested. Fully awake now and a little pissed off as he glared at his brother, however the glare was soon replaced by a somewhat confused expression as he looked between the younger man and his own empty bed. Unable to come up with an answer to Sam’s question for a moment before he finally remembered.

“You were having a nightmare. I just wanted…” Dean started but then clamped his mouth shut before he could embarrass himself any further. He just wanted to what? They were adults now, not little kids. Yeah they’d shared a bed only a day ago, but that’s because Dad was here and there were no other options between that and the floor.

His eyes, practically against his will, slid down the length of his brother’s body, and felt more than a little heat rush to his own cheeks, not to mention lower, when he finally really noticed the younger man’s ‘problem’. He forced himself to look away quickly, coughing.

“Whatever. Sorry.” He finally said, shrugging off the moment as he quickly untangled himself from his brother and returned to his own bed. Though he couldn’t help one last jab, more to cover up his own unwelcome reaction to seeing his brother so hard he was tenting the front of his boxers.

“You might want to go take care of that before you poke someone’s eye out.”

* * *

Sam huffed and swung his legs off the bed and slightly crouching headed for the bathroom. Any response he gave would just egg Dean on and it wasn’t worth it. In the bathroom, he realized there was no way he was taking care of his problem. How the hell could he with the door open? And how the hell could he close it in light of what happened last night.

_Ok_.

His brother’s one word promise played in his mind. It sounded sincere, but… yeah, he wasn’t taking any chances. He couldn’t.

Pushing the door slightly closed, he took a leak. By the time he was done washing his face, brushing his teeth and shaving, at least his problem had gone away. The thought that he’d made Dean wait to go in brightened his mood up and he was smiling when he got back in the room and made a sweeping gesture toward the bathroom. “All yours. And if you plan to rub your chin all over me, shave. I have no idea how all your girls put up with it, but I’m not.” He touched the area of his neck where Dean’s stubble and rubbed him raw, then remembered the damn hickey on the other side. Quickly turning away, he pulled a tee shirt on and shrugged a shirt over it to cover up.

* * *

Dean smirked a little at his brother’s lack of response. Knowing he’d irritated his brother brightening his mood a bit and he rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow, not really trying to fall asleep again, just dozing. Though his… reactions he was having to his younger brother still confused and bothered the hell out of him, he decided to chalk it up to six months without sex. Certainly the longest he’d been without since he started having sex in the first place.

The werewolf bitch constantly trying to molest him didn’t fucking count. Not in the least.

So he needed to get laid. Badly. Maybe the waitress from the diner last night, she was certainly cute enough an seemed more than a little interested… Why he hadn’t shown more interest in her he chalked up to being pissed at Sam.

Speaking of his brother he wondered how he was going to convince the younger man to leave him alone for a couple hours to take care of his needs when Sam wouldn’t even close the damn bathroom door all the way to piss or jerk off, which Dean could clearly hear the younger man NOT doing, brushing his teeth instead.

When his brother was finally done ‘primping’ in the bathroom Dean rolled his eyes at the younger man’s comment and rolled out of bed. Firmly shutting the door behind him and locking it to make a point as he started to take care of his morning business. Taking his sweet time pissing, brushing his teeth, even shaving. Wondering just how long he could push it before his paranoid brother tried to break the door down.

He frowned as he looked in the mirror. Touching the rather tender bruise on his jaw courtesy of Sam. Though he supposed after last night he couldn’t really blame Sam. For the bruise or being paranoid. If Sam had pulled something like that he probably would have kicked the younger man’s ass a hell of a lot worse.

With a sigh Dean finally unlocked the door and left the bathroom, a rather cocky grin pulling his lips as he walked up to his brother and rubbed his cleanly shaven cheek against the younger man’s.

“Better, Princess?” He teased.

* * *

Sam’s heart leaped to his throat at Dean’s sudden movement and what he initially perceived as another attempt to drag him onto the bed. Once he realized his brother was just being himself, he gave Dean a shove. “Great. Soft as a baby’s butt... now get better so you can get laid.”

The quicker the better. He gave him a look, and thought it was returned in kind. What? What had he done? Dean was the one that had molested him, and had him in a death grip this morning. His color rose at the through of how they’d been pretty much knotted together, and he quickly shook off all sorts of uncomfortable feelings by walking to the door. “Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

As they headed toward the diner, he realized that thanks to Dean, he hadn’t eaten at all since the night before. First his errant brother had dragged him to a bar for breakfast, then he’d been too drunk to leave the room, then after just a few bites of dinner he’d run off to ... Blowing his breath out, he refused to go down that path.

As Dean walked inside the diner, Sam touched his shoulder. “I want coffee and scrambled eggs, tomatoes and bacon.” In response to Dean’s questioning look, he raised his cell phone then walked back outside to make his calls.

He retrieved a message from his dad but was unable to reach him. Again. Frowning, he dialed Jessica and they had their usual morning talk.

By the time he walked in and dropped down in the booth, sitting across from Dean, he was in a pretty good mood. The coffee made it just that much the better. “The guy has moved to a new location. Dad’s not giving up,” he said, meeting Dean’s gaze over the rim of his mug as he took a drink. “He said he hasn’t found anything to show the guy doesn’t check out.” Actually, the message had been he hadn’t found anything one way or the other.

* * *

He’d known Sam’s reaction would be pissy, that’s pretty much why Dean had done it in the first place, after all. One of his ‘jobs’ as a big brother to annoy his little brother to no end, so the shove had been expected. The younger man going on to say he needed to get better so he could get laid… that had not been as expected, however.

Sam was frowning at him and Dean knew his expression had to be closely mirroring his brother’s, but inside he was panicking a little. Not because he’d been thinking the exact same thing just a few minutes ago, but _why_ he’d been thinking it. Because of the really fucking inappropriate thoughts, dreams… feelings… towards his brother and…

Fucking Christ had Sam somehow picked up on… his brother must think he was a total fucking pervert or something…

Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it.

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Breakfast. Right. Dean had little choice but to follow the younger man out of their motel room, even though his mind was still in chaos. He nodded once in understanding when Sam stopped him and gave him his order and held up his phone. Calling dad. Well, Dean knew it was going to come sooner or later.

With a sigh he continued into the diner, found a table, and gave their order when the waitress came around. She’d already brought the coffee by the time his brother joined him, but not the food yet. Dean gave a half shrug when Sam gave him dad’s update. Taking a drink from his own mug as he tried to think of what to say to the younger man. Should he say anything? Apologize or something… but it wasn’t like he’d actually done anything, though thinking sure as hell was bad enough and…

Maybe it would be better all around to just forget about it. Just keep his fucking eyes and hands to himself and for once take his brother’s advice. Get laid. Awkwardness over.

“So we’re just going to keep hanging out here?” The elder man finally asked. Picking at his napkin, tearing it into little strips, while he avoided looking at Sam.

* * *

Sam watched him for a long moment. “Yeah, that’s the plan. Dean.” Even when his brother didn’t look up, he added. “It’s gonna be alright. One day at a time, okay? We grab breakfast, then maybe we go find that lake. Your leg will heal, _if_ you let it.” Yeah, that was a pointed reference. “Oh...”

Here was some news that might get Dean excited. “Dad said something about getting the car out of storage. He was cut off but... road trip?” he grinned, knowing Dean loved nothing and no one better than that car of his.

* * *

Dean made a face when his brother affirmed that they were just going to keep hanging around here, laying low, until they heard more back from their father. The elder man couldn’t say he was pleased by the news.

He didn’t _do_ laying low. He’d never liked hanging around in one place for very long, especially if there was no job to do, even under normal circumstances. The idea of being cooped up in that damn motel room until… until either Dad found something or until he was about to turn didn’t sit well with him in the least. It made him feel anxious and trapped. Like a caged animal.

Like he’d felt when he’d been held prisoner for all those months.

Dean blew out a breath through his teeth when Sam tried to reassure him. One day at a time. Right. He’d almost forgotten about his brother’s promise to take him to the lake. Dean wasn’t exactly a nature kind of guy, but it was at least outside, and Sam had promised to take him to a _real_ bar too. Where there’d be plenty of booze and chicks, and maybe he could take care of more than one problem.

The elder man finally looked up when Sam mentioned his car. He’d almost forgotten about it with everything else there was to worry about. He didn’t remember much about his actual abduction but it did lighten his mood a bit to hear that his ‘baby’ was all right. That dad had found it and taken care of it for him. But it was what else Sam said that made the first real flicker of hope light up his eyes.

Road trip… Did that mean that Sam was really planning on sticking around for a while? Not just because of the whole werewolf thing, because he felt guilty or something, but… Just the two of them on the road together…

“Seriously?”

* * *

Tipping his head to the side in a ‘why not’ motion, Sam searched his brother’s face. There was a message there that he wasn’t getting, but he didn’t even know what question to ask, so he just gave a small smile and was relieved when the waitress brought their food.

For probably the first time ever, his fork was in the food and then in his mouth faster than Dean’s. “Mmm, this is good.” It could have tasted like saw dust for all he would have noticed. “And don’t go eyeing my bacon, you’re so not getting it today.”

They ate in silence for another few minutes, Sam mostly shoveling food into his mouth and getting it down as fast as he could. Finally, when the hunger pangs receded, he spoke. “That ah... werewolf chick, Cassandra. Did she just single you out or was she in heat for all the guys?” He knew Dean just wanted to forget about his time with the werewolves, but he needed information, even if he had to drag it out of Dean in little dribs and drabs.

He tapped his brother's knee with his own under the table. "Just pretend its a story you're telling me, like you used to." He'd caught on to the fact that the so called scary campfire stories Dean used to tell him were true and that they were based on things Dean had done and seen. "Detach yourself, if you can." Seeing an angry light flash in his brother's eyes, he lifted his hand. "I know... I know I'm asking for a lot."

* * *

Dean knew his return smile must be a little goofy but he couldn’t really help it. Then when the waitress brought their food he couldn’t help laughing outright when the younger man began shoveling food into his face almost before she’d managed to put the plate down.

He dug into his own meal at an only slightly slower pace. Feeling more relaxed now than he’d felt all morning. Even playfully trying to steal strips of bacon off of his brother’s plate more to be annoying than because he really wanted them. Letting Sam get away with stealing sausage off his plate in return.

The elder man was all but done with his own meal, sitting back and enjoying his coffee, deciding it was pretty damn good coffee after all, when Sam asked him about the werewolves… Cassandra… and Dean’s good mood faded almost instantly. His easy smile replaced by a frown. Giving away to anger and he forced himself to look out the window instead of his brother lest he lose his temper like he had last night.

He was almost more irritated by the younger man’s psycho babble, trying to get him to talk, than the question itself. Why the hell did Sam keep asking him about the werewolves? Sure, Dean knew plenty about them now, but none of it was going to help his brother find a damn cure or whatever, because none existed. So why the fuck did he keep bringing it up…

“If I tell you now, you don’t get to bring it up again later.” Dean finally said, not really waiting for his brother to agree to his ‘terms’. Rather just getting it over with.

“Cassandra is the alpha female of the pack. All the others do what she says, without question. She’s the oldest, strongest, of the pack and the rest are pretty much afraid of her. She would fuck any of the men she wanted, but she showed special interest in me after… I was the last one left in the pens.” He said without emotion. ‘Detaching’ himself, as Sam had suggested. Though he didn’t look at the younger man as he spoke.

“That’s how they decide who’s ‘worthy’ enough to become a part of the pack, but the bitch wanted more than that from me. She was looking for a mate too, and decided I was it. She pretty much lost interest with the other men after that. Lucky me. Unfortunately she didn’t like taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

* * *

Sam was sorry to see the change in Dean’s mood, but he was more than willing to get this over in one go, like his brother seemed to want to do now. He listened carefully, nodding, and scrutinizing Dean’s profile.

“You said ‘no.’” He repeated, “and she was after you for a long time. Was she... unattractive, or was it just the whole werewolf thing. I mean...” No, he didn’t think for one minute that Dean would pimp himself out to a ‘thing’ but, there was something else he did expect. He rubbed the back of his neck, “you’ve lured demons before, made them think you were interested.”

In his mind, he could see Dean trying it on Cassandra, agreeing and then taking advantage when she might not expect it. His eyes widened. “Dean. Dean... did she... I mean where she bit you...” he swallowed, not wanting to put the rest of his question into words.

* * *

Unattractive? Werewolf ‘thing’?

His brother said it like he’d just told him he’d turned down some kind of blind date and Dean couldn’t help turning to look at the younger man. His brows raised, wearing a look like he thought his brother had lost his mind a little, as Sam struggled to clarify his question… if it could be called that.

The elder man wasn’t even sure exactly what his brother was asking him. Was Sam actually asking him why he’d told the bitch ‘no’? Did Sam really think he was that much of a slut or something? Ok, fine, maybe he had low standards. But not _that_ fucking low. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much, but it really did.

Before he could even think how to answer that question, Sam asked him another, and if he thought he couldn’t feel even more uncomfortable he was wrong. He made a face before glancing away from his brother, running his hand through his hair.

“Are you asking me if she raped me?” Dean asked softly, looking back to the younger man and seeing the confirmation in his brother’s eyes even though Sam didn’t say a word, he shook his head. Looking down at his plate, moving around the leftover eggs with his fork to avoid looking in Sam’s eyes.

“No. She didn’t. She could have if she wanted to. She had every chance to, but she didn’t. She didn’t want that. She wanted me to want her… and she would have known if I was faking it. She could smell it.” Dean said, looking up at his brother again, his nostrils flaring a little unconsciously. Like he was testing his brother’s scent.

* * *

It was strange, how pleased Sam was that Dean hadn’t satisfied her. He was also relieved it hadn’t been rape, but really... the way she’d bitten him, that was violation enough. Sam understood that, even as he nodded, and touched Dean’s shoulder across the table.

These weren’t werewolves who couldn’t help themselves and who were just following their nature. The ones that had his brother were organized and sadistic, and they didn’t deserve to live.

“I wish...”he swallowed, because thoughts like this belonged in the heads of his brother and dad, but there they were. “I wish she and all the others had been there... I wish dad and I had blown their fucking brains out. I wish we could have let you pull the trigger.” He ground out each word, thinking one day it might come to that... and maybe Dean would get a piece of himself back from those bastards.

* * *

Dean gave his brother a tight smile, feeling strangely comforted by Sam’s words. Only in their fucked up family, seriously. But he nodded in understanding.

After the waitress brought their check and Sam paid they left the diner and headed for the lake in the woods as the younger man promised. They walked mostly in silence, but it was a much more relaxed silence then they’d shared in… hell… days. Since even before Dad left.

The lake was actually a little bit bigger than Dean had been expecting. Big enough to have its own dock, which they sat on for a little while. Staring out over the still surface that could have been a glass mirror it was so calm.

During the summer this lake was probably a pretty popular fishing and swimming spot. November in Washington it was pretty much deserted this time of year though, and Dean had to admit fairly peaceful. He wasn’t a nature kind of guy, but he could definitely see him and Sam coming back, maybe with a case of beer, sitting on the dock and just chatting and relaxing.

It definitely wouldn’t be a bad way to spend the days…

After a little while they headed back to the motel, and when they got back Dean decided to lay down. The events of last night and the extra walk to the lake this morning tiring him out more than he realized, reminding him that he was actually still recovering and not nearly a hundred percent yet. It wasn’t long before he dozed off, the TV remote still held loosely in his hand.

* * *

God their lives were like roller coasters. One minute he was sure he was losing his brother, the next, it was like Dean didn’t have a suicidal thought. One minute they were peacefully eating breakfast, the next tensions flew high because he needed answers about things Dean didn’t want to think about... and then hours later, look at them... you’d think none of the events of the past six months had happened, and Dean was sleeping like a baby.

Sam rubbed his eyes and put the lap top away. He pulled his wallet out and counted, then looked over at Dean. How the hell was he supposed to go out and take care of some business when he couldn’t risk leaving Dean to his own devices? Not after last night. Not even after his semi-promise, and all the good behavior he’d been exhibiting.

Reaching a decision, one that he didn’t like because of the other dangers it posed, he nevertheless went through with it. Rummaging through their stuff, he returned to Dean’s bed with a pair of sturdy cuffs. Very carefully, he put a bracelet around Dean’s hand, trying not to make noise and holding his breath. Tension flowed through him not only because he didn’t want to get caught, but he remembered what happened the last time he’d leaned over Dean when his brother was sleeping.

Shrugging off the strange feelings passing through him at the memory, he managed to cuff Dean to the rails of the headboard. Just one wrist... that was enough. He made sure there was nothing around for Dean to use, no sharp instruments, nothing but the remote control near him, and then he left.

God – don’t let anything happen. Don’t let something enter the room. But the risk of Dean doing harm to himself was greater, he thought. Plus he’d be back fast... Dean might never know...

* * *

  
_He was running. Through the dark woods, the night pitch black save for the huge silver orb of the moon directly overhead. Stumbling over roots and loose patches of wet leaves and rocks. Tree limbs like black skeletal claws swiping at him as he ran, clawing at his bare arms. Icy air filling his lungs, his breath coming out in fast, desperate, pants forming into white clouds of mist before it dissipated. His heart thundering almost loud enough to drown out the screams he could hear coming from in front of him._

_His brother's screams…_

_Loud, bloodcurdling, screams. Then something else. Vicious growling. Howling. His brother was dying. Something had Sam. Sam… Sammy… No… no…_

_The screams stopped as soon as he broke through the edge of a clearing. The moonlight lighting up the forest here almost as well as daylight, but still washing out all the color. All the color except red. Blood. Everywhere. His brother lying still and unmoving in the center of the clearing. In the center of the blood. His flesh in shreds. His entrails spilling out of him. A figure crouched beside him, covered in his brother's blood._

_Even before the figure turned, he knew. Even before he saw his own face. Bright golden eyes flashing in the silver moonlight. The taste of Sam's blood heavy in his own mouth._

*

Dean sat up sharply in the bed. Or at least he tried to. Falling back abruptly to the bed as his wrist jerked against the metal cuff around his wrist. The terror from his dream, morphing into confusion, then anger, and then back to fear. All boiling down to one thought.

_What the fuck!_

"Sam!" He yelled, even as his eyes darted desperately around the room, he already knew his brother wasn't here. WHAT THE FUCK! Sam had NOT just gone and left him here alone handcuffed to his bed… but apparently his brother had.

"God damn it, Sam!" The elder man growled, yanking furiously at the handcuffs roughly. Not caring how the unforgiving metal cuff bit into his wrist. The feeling of being trapped bleeding away rational thought, leaving him desperate and not thinking clearly. Having no idea where his brother was only making the panic he felt worse. Making him feel like a trapped animal willing to chew off its own leg rather than remain trapped.

He yanked even harder on the handcuffs. Twisting around desperately. Trying to find something, anything, he might be able to use to get free. His bound wrist bruised and bleeding a little by the time he heard a car pull up right outside their motel room and he finally stilled. His heart pounding and his breath coming hard and fast as he listened. Waiting. Hearing the car door open.

* * *

Sam got out of the car and walked around the back. “Can I help you carry these? It’s the least I can do.”

The brunette smiled and nodded. “Thanks, it’ll save me a trip back.” They both grabbed some of the groceries she’d brought, and started toward the motel. “If you’re into hiking, I know this great trail...”

“It’s beautiful out here,” he followed her a few doors down from their room. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime. Seriously.”

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, gave her the bags and nodded. “Later.”

“Yeah... later.”

Smiling, he headed to their room, hoping against hope Dean was still asleep. Working his key, he opened the door slowly and stopped mid stride at the beyond-pissed-off expression Dean was wearing. “I had to.” He spread his hands out and dropped them, tensely waiting for the angry rush of words.

* * *

Dean heard his brother’s voice, though not much of his actual words, through the door. His ears weren’t _that_ good now, unfortunately. But they were good enough to hear the soft female voice that answered Sam, and the elder man saw red.

It was bad enough that his brother had fucking handcuffed him to his bed, but the fact that Sam had handcuffed him so he could go off with some… chick…

Dean laid there. Absolutely fuming, and every second it took for Sam to return to their room only making him more pissed off if it were possible. The expression on his face practically murderous by the time the younger man finally opened the door.

“Unlock. Me. Now.” Dean replied slowly and deliberately. His voice almost eerily calm, but promising there would be hell to pay if Sam didn’t obey him right the fuck now.

* * *

Sam licked his lip, hesitating before he moved to the bed and fished the key out of his jacket. His eyes were locked to his brother’s, and the waves of anger coming from him were palpable. Dean’s eyes were as hard as his voice.

It shouldn’t be this way, but Sam felt an elemental fear go through him. He took a deep breath, told himself it would be fine, and bent over Dean to undo the cuff around his wrist. Seeing the damage to Dean’s skin, he shook his head. “Dammit Dean, why... it was only a half hour.” The metal gave and he started to step away.

Ithiel Dragon

Oct 4 2008, 06:42 PM

Dean watched his brother’s every move. Never looking away from the younger man’s eyes as Sam approached him slowly. Maybe he should have felt guilty for just how nervous his brother looked, but he just had to remind himself that Sam was the one who had left him trapped here, chained _him_ up to the damn bed. If anyone should be feeling guilty right now it was Sam.

As soon as the metal cuff fell away from his wrist, Dean stood up. Ignoring his brother’s ‘personal’ space as he backed Sam against up against the wall. Inhaling the younger man’s scent deeply. Smelling the woman’s as well, but it wasn’t as potent as it would have been if his brother had been… There was no smell of sweat or sex clinging to the younger man’s skin. Just Sam, and the elder man allowed himself to relax a little even though his expression remained far from pleased.

“You left me _handcuffed_ to the fucking bed, Sam.”

* * *

Sam’s chest rose and fell as he leaned back as far as he could against the wall, the space between his brows furrowed. He should just shove Dean back, but he didn’t want to escalate... not unless he had to. “I know. I know I did.”

His brother’s face was implacable, his gaze pierced right through Sam. Even though he wasn’t touching him, it felt like he was pinned to the wall just the same.

“Sorry, I just...” pulling his gaze away, he looked out the window and tried to pretend Dean wasn’t inches from him. “I couldn’t risk it okay? I couldn’t fucking risk last night, and I thought I’d be back before you woke. It was just a half hour.”

The silence was killing him. “If you want to hit me, go ahead. Just get it over with.” As if he wasn’t already in pain from the trick Dean had pulled last night. As if they both weren’t.

* * *

Dean was still beyond pissed off at his brother. Sam had no fucking clue.

After all the time he’d spent tied up, chained down, imprisoned by those fucking werewolves, did the younger man have any idea what it had done to him to wake up and find himself chained up again.

Obviously not.

“ _They_ kept me chained up.” Dean said softly. Without emotion, mostly because he couldn’t deal with all the extra baggage it would dredge up right now if he let himself. So he let go of the anger with a heavy sigh through his teeth.

He understood. He really did. His brother’s fear after what Dean had tried to do last night. He understood, and that’s why he was willing to let it go. This time.

“Christ, Sammy…” Dean whispered when his brother actually ‘offered’ to let him hit him. It was almost like Sam had punched him in the gut instead. Without really thinking, Dean reached out and pulled his brother into his arms. Hugging the younger man to him tightly instead.

“For being so smart, college boy, you can be a real idiot sometimes.” The elder man muttered under his breath.

* * *

He'd really expected to be struck, so he was more than startled by the hug. But he wasn't so surprised that he didn't reciprocate. Putting his own arms around Dean, he held real tight, almost burying his face his brother's throat.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, his gut wrenching now that he understood what he'd put Dean through. Even when he felt Dean start to push away, he hung on. "So sorry Dean. I didn't think. I just... I couldn't lose you again. I couldn't."

Stupid tears stung his eyes and he tried to blink them away. How many times had he almost lost his brother in just a week? To wolves, to poison, to that suicide attempt? He wasn't thinking straight anymore, wasn't being smart... his brother was right. But moments like this gave him hope, told him things could be alright, that they'd find their way.

* * *

Dean was a little shocked just how tightly his brother held onto him. Almost desperately. Like Sam expected him to simply vanish at any second…

Had he given his brother any reason to think otherwise?

“It’s ok, Sammy.” Dean said softly, reassuring. Sam didn’t need to apologize. They could just forget about it. He started to release the younger man but his brother just kept holding onto him. Refusing to let go.

They were pressed so close he realized he could feel Sam shaking a little in his arms. When he felt the wetness of his brother’s tears against his neck, his own throat felt choked with emotion, and he held onto Sam tighter in return. Running his fingers through his brother’s hair, hoping to calm him. Much as he’d done when they were much younger. When Sam was still just a kid.

Chick flick moment be damned.

“I’m sorry…” The elder man whispered. His own eyes stinging with unshed tears and a chill passing through him as he allowed himself for perhaps the first time to truly imagine what his brother would have gone though had he succeeded last night. Maybe his ‘intentions’ were good. He only wanted to protect Sam, from himself, but if he’d killed himself like that… It would have broken his brother. Dean was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t done that already.

Fuck…

“I’m not going anywhere, Sammy. Ok? Not if I can help it. I promise…” God it hurt to make that promise. He was still so fucking afraid what was going to happen once he turned. Remembering the dream he’d had just before he woke to find himself chained down again made a shiver pass through him he knew Sam would be able to feel too.

But he realized that Sam needed that hope. Much more than Dean himself did. Sam needed him to fight. Just needed _him_ … Dean had almost forgotten how much he needed his brother to need him too.

* * *

Unable to speak for a while, Sam just shook his head and let Dean comfort him. He’d asked his older brother to come back to him last night, but he was afraid to let himself believe his wish had come true.

Then for the first time, Dean said the words he’d been begging him for from the first time they’d retrieved him from the wolves. Sam thought something was crushing his heart. Closing his fist, he slammed it lightly in the middle of Dean’s back. “Don’t you make me a promise like that and not keep it, Dean, or I will haunt your ass.” Half choking over the lump in his throat, he wiped his nose with his sleeve, and waited for Dean to pull away.

When he did, they searched each others’ faces. Sam saw nothing but truth and determination in Dean’s eyes. Yeah, he knew his brother was mercurial, that things could change. But right now. Right here, he believed him. The hard won promise was good enough, it had to be.

They both turned away and walked in separate directions, slightly embarrassed. Sam took another deep breath, “all of this wasn’t part of your evil plan to bamboozle me into taking you to the bar tonight, was it?” He tapped his pocket. “Got a ride to the ATM...”

* * *

His brother’s half choked words made the lump in his own throat grow, but he forced himself to swallow it down. Holding onto the younger man for another few moments until he felt Sam was more calm, and when he pulled away this time, his brother let him go.

They both looked away at the same time then. Dean cleared his throat a little and ran his hand through his own hair, his fingers still tingling a little from doing the same to his brother. Yeah, it was a bit of an awkward moment. But they both got over it rather quickly.

Dean turning to look at his brother with a grin when Sam mentioned the bar. Oh yeah, a drink right now, sounded exactly like what they both needed.

“Dude, you did _not_ just use the word ‘bamboozle’?” Dean laughed as he picked up his jacket and threw it on. Then threw his arm around the younger man’s neck, dragging Sam down to give him a good old fashioned noogie, just because, before releasing him with a laugh.

“Hope you got enough, because you are so getting wasted with me tonight, little brother.”


	7. Chapter 7

A couple of hours later, Sam was literally having the time of his life. From the moment he'd been tackled, and done some tackling back himself, to the walk to the bar and then the beers they were having... the jokes they were cracking... stupid as hell, but so familiar, so _them_. It was like he had his brother back not only in body, but soul as well.

Chuckling, he touched his beer bottle to Dean's and knocked back a bit of his drink. No shots, he'd insisted on that, but they'd been guzzling beer faster than he was used to. Dad would kill him if he found out. No doubt about it, they were letting their guard down... they were being dumb... engaging in risky behavior, but Sam had had it with responsibility. The weight of the world was too much for him. And seeing his brother laugh carelessly, make cracks he shouldn't and eye the chicks... God he'd thought he might never see that day.

Broody, constantly angry or sullen Dean was gone. Sam was so fucking relieved, he couldn't hide it. He couldn't help touching Dean, or giving him half hugs, and grinning like an idiot in the face of his wise cracks and set downs.

"Oh man... my stomach is hurting," he halfheartedly complained. "I can't believe you're the one who stole that statue from in front of the school and sat her in dad's car... why didn't you tell me?" John Winchester had not been pleased to find a statue of a saint clad in lacy underthings laying in his car with his shorts discarded on the ground. Their father wasn't an easy man to fool, but Dean had dripped with innocence as they answered their dad's questions and he finally came to the conclusion that some local hoodlums had played the trick and grabbed his shorts from the duffel bag in the truck.

Practically hanging off Dean's shoulder, he tried to speak through his laugher. "I can't believe you didn't crack... fuck... you were so damned cool."

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, or just seeing his brother so damned relaxed and _happy_ , really genuinely happy, but it felt like the weight of the world had been suddenly lifted off of his shoulders. It was a good feeling. Damn good.

Just for a few hours being able to forget completely about all the shit they were going through. Forgetting about werewolves and hunters. Forgetting how practically the whole world was against them right now. Well, fuck the rest of the world.

Right now it was just him and Sammy. Just like it should be. For the first time in years they were just _brothers_ again, and as far as Dean was concerned, right now everything was right in the world.

Fuck he had missed Sam so damn much. He almost didn’t care about the hot chicks that were eyeing them both with obvious interest. Though he let himself look and leer more out of habit than anything else, his attention was almost solely focused on Sam and nothing else. And if they both got more touchy feely as they got more booze into their systems, Dean didn’t mind it in the least.

At the moment Dean was trying hard not to choke on his beer with laughter when he finally admitted his guilt to his brother about one of the only pranks he’d pulled on their dad and actually gotten away with it.

“Why didn’t I tell you? Because you would have given me away, bitch.” Dean laughed, poking his brother in the ribs before slipping his arm comfortably around the younger man’s waist. Supporting his tipsy brother as Sam hung onto him, both of them giggling like they were twelve years old again.

“I rehearsed that in front of the mirror for a week, and still I almost lost it seeing the look on his face.” Dean admitted, still laughing as he took another swig from his nearly finished beer. He’d almost lost track of how many they’d had between them.

“I swear if you tell Dad, I am going to end you.” Dean said but effect of the threat was rather lost by the warmth in his voice. Tugging Sam a little closer to his side, hugging him tighter. The younger man’s hair tickling his nose a little when he turned his head and he closed his eyes as he inhaled his brother’s warm, clean, scent. God, Sammy smelled so good… It made Dean feel like he’d finally come home…

* * *

The threat whispered in Sam’s ear just made him want to laugh more. He turned his head, “come on Dean, just when have I ever told on you.” There was that look, the one their dad had perfected, the one that made him feel three years old all over again. “Okay... I was a kid, dammit.”

Finding himself in yet another hug, Sam lost every one of his regrets at having cuffed Dean. It might be selfish of him, but freaking his brother out had been worth it if this was the result. It had caused Dean to realize how bad things would have been if he’d gone off that bridge, and the change was... well it was like a miracle.

It was like Dean had found new life, and okay maybe he was taking to more like Sam might with all the hugs and touchy feelies but Sam wasn’t complaining. Hell, not being shoved away at the first sign of touching felt good once in a while.

“I don’t think I need anymore, I’m totally buzzed,” Sam tried to wave Dean off as his brother ordered more drinks. “Seriously...” Only the word came out sounding like a damn giggle. “Don’t even say it,” he pointed at Dean to head him off at the pass.

* * *

“You are such a fucking lightweight, Sammy…” Dean chuckled as he leaned his forehead against his brother’s shoulder. He was practically nuzzling against the younger man’s neck, however since Sam didn’t seem to mind it, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. His brother was just so damn warm, smelled so good… felt so good…

OK, maybe he was more than a little tipsy too right now, but he wasn’t about to admit it, and he wasn’t ready to leave the bar yet either.

“Just a couple more, then we can go. Scouts honor.” Dean finally said, pulling his head off of his brother’s shoulder to give him a rather sloppy grin, holding up his hand with his fingers in a Vulcan ‘V’ shape with a laugh. He was trying for persuasive, but he had the feeling he wasn’t pulling it off as well as he normally did.

Dean suddenly realized how close they really were. Barely inches between their faces, the younger man’s eyes huge and just a little glazed from the booze. He wondered why he’d never really noticed just what… pretty… eyes Sam had. Especially when they were looking at him like he was the most important thing in the universe. It made him feel even warmer than he was with all the liquor in his system.

The elder man’s gaze drifted down to his brother’s lips almost against his will. Soft. Pink. Inviting. Those lips had been wrapped around beer bottles all night, and it wasn’t too much a stretch to imagine them wrapped around…

The waitress returned with their next round and Dean blinked, like he was coming out of a trance. Picking up the fresh cold bottle and taking an extra long pull from it, hoping it would cool him down a little, before he settled back in the booth. It didn’t work. Heat was still pumping through his veins as he looked at his baby brother sitting next to him. His arm still wrapped comfortably around Sam’s waist. His fingers fitting easily into the junction of his hip.

* * *

Sam vehemently denied being a lightweight and reached for the bowl of pretzels. "I just don't want alcohol oozing out of my pores, nothing wrong with that," he insisted, for a second feeling as if Dean was checking out his pores. Laughing, he elbowed him to cut it out.

Then in response his brother's challenge, Sam started to tell a good college drinking story. Only when he got near the end, he remembered that he left early. "Dude, I had a test the next day, alright? I would have drunk all night if..." There was nothing more irritating and joy-giving than the utter disbelief in Dean's eyes. "This doesn't prove anything."

Lifting his chin, he went ahead and knocked back some more beer and set the bottle down. "Satisfied? And...ah... I'm not THAT drunk." His gaze flicked down to where Dean was still holding him at his waist. "I'm not about to slip off the chair and embarrass you. I swear." Shaking his head, he started to slip out of the booth. "Gotta go to the head, but no more for me."

He steadied himself and remembered the bathrooms were accessible only from the back parking lot. Hick towns... gotta love em.

*

Sam walked out of the bathroom and started back toward the entrance of the bar when he heard the crunch of boots on the ground behind him. As he started to turn, he heard a woman snarl, "get him."

Next thing he knew, he was fighting something that moved so fast, it drew blood from his cheek before he could even see it. He struck out, his fists pounding what felt like human flesh. "What the..."

The struggle was brief. The woman was tugging his head back by the hair as the other man, the one whose eyes had shone yellow, pinned Sam's arms behind his back. First he'd thought it was a demon though the yellow eyes threw him, but as the woman sniffed him, he just knew. Oh God, Dean...

"Where is he?"

"Who?" Fuck, his head was pulled back so far, his throat was exposed and she was making no bones about what she intended.

"I smell him on you. Is he inside?" Her lips curled up as her companion shook his head. "Then he'll come out for you."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about. I'm just here for a beer... what do you want?" He bit his lip as his arms were painfully pulled higher. His struggles only made it worse. Oh God Dean, don't come out, don't...

A group of people came out of the bar and Sam found them easing their hold a little, so they looked more like they were talking, but they meant business. He could tell. Blowing out a breath, he scrutinized her face. She had sharp, attractive features and long hair, but her mouth... it was literally twisted into a cruel smile.

"Smile... he's coming," she purred thickly, her nostrils flaring and her heart beating with excitement.

* * *

After a good ten minutes of sitting alone in the bar, nursing his beer slowly while he waited for Sam to return, Dean realized he was bored. In the space of that time he’d been hit on three times. One of the women making her offer very clear by practically putting her hand down his pants even after he’d politely refused once.

Under normal circumstances that wouldn’t have been so much of a problem, he kind of liked a woman who was a little aggressive and knew what she wanted. But right now for some reason it only irritated him. He was here to have a good time with his brother, damn it. Not to be groped by some blonde bimbo.

Shaking the said bimbo off of him roughly, practically knocking her onto the floor as Dean stood up abruptly, he headed for the door. He heard her call him a fucking fag on the way out but he ignored the insult completely.

Just how the hell long did it take to take a piss? Sam hadn’t had _that_ much to drink.

Dean froze as soon as he stepped out of the smoke filled bar. Something in the air making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and somehow he _knew_ even before he rushed around the side of the building. Stopping dead in his tracks when he saw them. His heart freezing in his chest in fear seeing the werewolf holding his brother, even as his blood began to boil with rage.

“Let him go, Cassandra.” Dean growled viciously. His hands curling into fists at his side.

* * *

“Dean.” Sam looked miserable, not only because he was in a death grip, but because it was his fault they were in this sitch, and his brother was facing his demons... again. Sorry... his eyes said.

 

Cassandra gave a throaty laugh and tugged Sam’s hair, before letting him go and strutting toward Dean and crooking her finger at him. “Hello, lover. You’re looking...” she licked her lower lip and let her gaze roam all over him. “... fuckable.”

Sam winced. Shit... that woman didn’t play around. He tried again, to get away from the male werewolf and got his shoulders wrenched for all his troubles. He tried to keep the sound of pain to himself.

“Oh... you ARE glad to see me,” her voice was thick with triumph. “Don’t deny it lover, I don’t even have to look at your pants... I can smell your arousal.” Without turning, she told the other wolf, “Alex, break his arm if this one gives me any trouble.”

With a malicious smile, she leaned in and kissed Dean hard, putting her hand behind his head, and forcing her tongue inside his mouth. When she pulled back, there was blood on both of them. “You belong to me. I found you. I made you. Your body already recognizes this, now it’s time for your head to catch up.”

* * *

Dean's eyes flickered away from the werewolf bitch in front of him for a moment to his brother, trying to reassure the younger man without words. Everything would be fine. He wouldn't let anything happen to him.

His attention quickly turning back to Cassandra with a deep scowl as she motioned for him to come closer, and having little choice with his brother held captive he did so. Doing his best not to squirm beneath her leering gaze.

Though it was difficult to hide his surprise when she mentioned his 'arousal'. Was she out of her fucking mind. He wasn't… Dean's eyes flickered almost involuntarily towards his brother and realization dawned.

He growled when she ordered the bastard holding his brother to break Sam's arm if he gave her any 'trouble' but he wasn't about to risk them hurting his brother so he remained immobile as she pulled him in closer. Her lips crushing his, making his stomach twist like he was going to be sick, but he opened his mouth for her anyway. Returning her kiss with equal ferocity, afraid if he didn't Sam would pay for it.

When she finally released him Dean licked at the corner of his mouth, the blood dripping from his lip where she'd bitten him.

"Fine. You have me now. Let him go."

* * *

“No! No Dean... fu...” Sam made a face as he staggered back. He couldn’t let Dean do this, he couldn’t lose him now... not now, not after all this. “What do you want from him? You already bit him.”

Cassandra raked her nail over Dean’s mouth. “Not much. Just _him_.” She walked around Dean, very slowly, dragging her hand over his stomach, side and cross his back, then leaning in and whispering close to his ear. “Glad to see you’re changing your tune, lover. It’s hard to resist... and harder the closer it gets to the full moon.” Nipping the cartilage of his ear, she added, “we could take him with us. A little mating present.”

A cell started to ring. Alex, pulled it from his belt clip, still holding Sam with one hand. “We need to get a move on it.”

“I say when,” she snarled, her eyes flashing yellow as her nails extended for an instant.

Sam’s heart started to pound. “Yeah, take me with you.” He nodded, despite the fury in his brother’s eyes. “Seriously, or I will hunt you down.”

“He’s one of the men who killed our people,” Alex told her, dragging Sam closer to Cassandra and Dean.

Swallowing, Sam looked down toward his right hip, then met Dean’s eyes again. His eyebrows shifted up, just a little.

* * *

Dean really wished his brother would just shut the fuck up. He threw a glare at Sam, clearly ordering him to shut his mouth and just let him handle this, but whenever had the stubborn young man ever listened to him for his own good?

His eyes flickered back and forth between the werewolf bitch and the one holding his brother. Shivering in disgust as her hand trailed over his body, though hopefully she would mistake it for desire. He looked at Sam again, his heart leaping into his throat when she ‘offered’ to bring his brother with them. To use him as leverage, no doubt. To make sure he stayed in line…

His heart started to beat harder as his fear for his brother grew. God, damn it Sam! Shut the hell up! They was no way they were going to let the younger man go now. They were going to either kill his brother now, or take him with him, and kill him later.

Nothing Dean said or did was going to stop them…

“You don’t need him. Let him go now, and I’ll do whatever you want…” Dean tried anyway, his voice low and suggestive of everything he knew she wanted from him. He saw his brother’s eyes flicker down. It was just the barest look, but Dean understood and gave a slight nod.

Dean didn’t wait for Cassandra’s response then. Lunging for his brother and the werewolf holding him. The man stumbled back, away from his ‘attack’, still holding onto Sam but Dean wasn’t going for the werewolf. His hand closing instead around the grip of the gun tucked into the waistband of his brother’s jeans. Pulling it free Dean turned, aiming it directly between the werewolf bitch’s eyes.

“Tell him to let my brother go, or I swear you’ll be dead long before he is.” Dean growled, his finger on the trigger.

* * *

Cassandra snarled in frustration and took a step toward Dean, stopping when she saw his finger move. What were the chances...

Sam started to struggle again. “Silver bullet. Blow her away, Dean... do it,” he pushed his weight back, trying to get the man holding him off balance.

“Let him go,” she said, through clenched teeth, her gaze darkening as the two men continued their struggle and both ended up on the ground. “Make no mistake... you’re mind. Soon, very soon you’ll come sniffing around me ... in heat,” she emphasized. “You’ll have a lot of making up and begging to do, lover.”

Sam rolled away and got up, standing right behind Dean and keeping his eyes on Alex. His head had been semi cleared but he was still glad Dean was the one holding the gun, he wasn’t so sure he could manage a proper aim.

A nod from Cassandra, and they both disappeared into the woods.

Sam dry scrubbed his face as they both slowly backed toward the bar. “That was close. We’re gonna have to take a car.” They couldn’t risk walking back, that was for sure.

* * *

Dean was so close to telling his brother to just shut the fuck up it wasn't even funny. He probably also would have added to quit fucking struggling against the other werewolf before he decided to break his neck or something just for the hell of it.

_He won't… he won't risk me shooting his bitch leader…_ Dean tried to tell himself, but the truth of it was he wasn't sure and that uncertainty was giving him a heart attack. His heart was pounding so hard and fast against his ribs in fear for Sam it felt like he was running a marathon or something. He could only pray that neither one of the werewolves could hear it.

Dean didn't relax when the bitch finally ordered the other werewolf to let go of his brother. Even though he felt weak with relief when he finally felt Sam's back press against his.

He seriously wanted to tell the bitch to go fuck herself. Actually, what he really wanted to do was put several bullets into her head and chest, but unfortunately they only had the one gun, a handful of silver bullets, and god knew how many werewolves were really out there. Even though he'd sobered quite a bit in the last several minutes, even stone cold sober he wouldn't be able to take out an entire pack of werewolves if they all rushed them at once.

Dean didn't relax even when the two werewolves finally disappeared into the woods. Even though he sniffed the air and realized they had actually left, they could be back, with reinforcements. The elder man nodded in agreement, finally lowering the gun but not putting it away. He took his brother by the arm and almost dragged him along as they walked quickly into the parking lot. All the while keeping all his senses peeled for any sign of the werewolves.

Not caring much about finesse he used the gun to break open one of the windows on a car, handing the gun to Sam then as he got into the driver's seat and quickly hotwired it just like their dad had taught him. Barely waiting for Sam to get into the passenger's seat and shut his door before he gunned it out of the bar's parking lot, heading back towards the relative safety of their motel room. One thing was for damn sure, however. They couldn't stay here any longer.

"Are you alright?" Dean finally asked, risking a glance away from the road to really look at his brother for the first time. Noticing the blood on Sam's cheek his fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

* * *

Head against the headrest but turned toward Dean, Sam thought there couldn’t be a more beautiful sight than Dean at the steering wheel again. He should be thinking about how close that had been, how things could have ended a lot different. Or what an idiot he was for going out against his better judgment, or for being under the influence... or a hundred other things that should take precedence, but this was what he was thinking... because it was familiar, and it felt right.

“I’m fine,” he even smiled a little, then blew out a breath. “You? Your leg?” Moving that fast couldn’t have been good for it, but the stoic look from his brother was all that he got, and all that he expected.

He didn’t ask any questions when Dean brought the car to a halt in the parking lot of a grocery store near the motel, and got out. Automatically, he put his arm around Dean and helped him, though Dean was moving pretty fast. “We’re gonna need to head out of town tomorrow. If I can’t get dad, we’ll leave him a message.”

Dean’s tight nod of agreement had him looking at his brother more closely. He was still tense as hell and had a hard look about him. Like he didn’t realize they were okay now.

“So... werewolf chick... you’re right, she has the hots for you bad. But...” he hesitated slightly as they stepped over a cement parking block and entered the lot of their motel. He felt Dean tense and there went the hope that all those beers might have loosened him up when it came to wolf talk. “You know how you said it’s one way? I don’t think you were right.”

His cheeks warmed because he’d checked the state of his brother’s jeans at the same time as Cassandra had boldly made her announcement. “Dean, you were aroused, like she said. Not that she wasn’t hot in a really scary, creepy, I’ll cut your balls off if you don’t ...kinda way... just saying...” The last thing he wanted was to lose Dean because his brother was in heat over that bitch.

* * *

Sam’s reassurance that he was fine didn’t really relax Dean in the slightest. His fingers remaining so tightly wound around the steering wheel during the short drive back to the motel that his knuckles were white. The muscles in his back and shoulders were so tight they ached, and how tense he was certainly wasn’t helping his leg any, but he just couldn’t make himself relax.

His brother had almost died tonight. It had come so close. Those fucking monsters had almost killed Sam. It could have gone so differently, and the tension and fear he’d felt standing there virtually helpless, ready to trade himself for his brother’s life without a second thought left him practically shaking.

Dean didn’t protest the arm Sam put around him for support, though the elder man had to wonder who exactly was supporting who right now. He nodded in agreement that they had to leave town tomorrow. Hell, they should probably go tonight, but neither of them was in much state to drive right now, unfortunately. Sure he’d managed the short drive back to the motel, but it wasn’t worth the possibility of wrapping a car around a tree or getting pulled over for DWI to leave tonight.

Besides, in the daylight they would have a better advantage. Even when it wasn’t a full moon, werewolves were stronger, more active at night… It was just one of those things he’d learned.

When his brother mentioned the werewolf bitch, Dean’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached and if possible he grew even more tense. Sam really did pick the absolute worst times to satisfy his curiosity. Dean was in absolutely no mood to answer these kinds of questions. Not even questions really. More like accusations.

Just saying… right…

He knew he should just let it go. Let Sam think whatever he wanted, as Cassandra had. It was safer. For both of them. Instead the elder man’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed, and almost before he realized what he was doing he had his brother pinned up against the door of their motel room. His previously mentioned arousal pressing firmly against the younger man’s hip as Dean leaned in close to the younger man.

“I was _not_ aroused by her, Sam.” Dean growled softly, and then he was kissing his brother.

* * *

It happened so fast, Sam still trying to process why Dean had pushed him and what he was bodily protecting him from, when Dean’s mouth descended over his. As if in reverse order, Sam now felt Dean’s state of arousal, and registered his denial that _she’d_ aroused him.

_Me. He means me._

The sudden rush of knowledge and surprise was like a sucker punch to his gut and it was a damn good thing Dean was holding him up. Gripping his brother’s arms, he tried to make sense of this, to protest... to get in his two cents. Only once he opened his mouth, Dean’s tongue slipped inside and it was pretty much over.

Oh God... oh God, he was kissing his brother back... he was putting his arms around Dean and pulling him closer, moving his mouth back and forth against the defined contours of Dean’s mouth... and it felt good. Too good.

A sound welled up in Sam’s throat, and he sensed a shift in Dean... a warning? He was pressed up harder against the door, and his brother was a bit more aggressive, as if he’d thought Sam was trying to get away when that was the farthest thing from his mind.

 

The harder edge to his brother’s kisses heightened Sam’s excitement. He knew it was wrong, so fucking wrong, but with every motion of his tongue, every press of his body, and every possessive grip... his brother was getting him hard. It was the liquor... it had to be, because why else wasn’t he fighting this? Why did he need it... why did he need it from his _brother_?.

* * *

Fuck. This was so wrong…

Fuck, this was so good…

Some part of his brain that wasn’t drowning in alcohol, lust, fear, and desperate need knew it shouldn’t feel so damn good, but it was. Kissing his brother. Feeling the younger man’s mouth moving against his own. Sam’s hard muscular body beneath his hands. The younger man’s taste on his tongue… He knew it was wrong. So damn wrong. But he didn’t care.

All he cared about was that Sam was letting him. kissing him back. Clutching onto him just as desperately as he held onto the younger man.

He wanted this. Needed it. So damn badly it hurt. He’d been fighting it for days. Knowing it was wrong. So fucking wrong for wanting his brother like this. His _brother_! But he’d almost lost Sam tonight. Almost lost him…

No… Sam was his, god damn it! His brother was his, and no one was going to take Sam away from him. _No one_.

Growling possessively in his throat he pushed his body against the younger man harder. His fingers digging into the hard muscles of Sam’s back. Clutching at his ass. Grinding his rock hard erection against the younger man and moaning when he felt an answering hardness pressing against him. Pulling his brother even tighter against him, his teeth nipping at the younger man’s lips, soothing the sting with his tongue.

Perhaps the only thing that stopped him from fucking his brother against the door right where they stood was the sound of another motel door opening a few doors down, and somehow he managed to wrench his lips away from Sam’s. Panting heavily, trying to regain some control, even as it was quickly unraveling again.

“Open the door. Now.” Was all he managed before he fastened his lips to his brother’s throat. Licking and sucking on the soft flesh hard enough to leave a mark.

* * *

“Oh God... Dean....” As his chest rose and fell, Sam’s pulse beat against Dean’s mouth. The scrape of Dean’s teeth against his throat kicked up his heart. “Don’t bite,” he said, very distinctly.

His hands searched for the key slot, though how he was supposed to open the door like this was beyond him. He pushed at Dean and earned himself some room, but his body protested the loss of pressure. As he shakily pushed the card in and got the door open, he asked himself what he was doing. What the hell was he doing here? How was this all gonna end up?

The instant they were inside, Dean kicked the door shut and advanced toward him. Sam took a couple of steps back, knowing they should talk it out, but the look on Dean’s face said talking wasn’t in the cards. He looked so wild... so fucking hungry, Sams’ gut clenched in response.

Reaching out, he grabbed Dean’s jacket, pulling him close, groaning as their bodies collided. Surging forward, he fitted his mouth against Dean’s, wanting more of the heat that would prevent him from over-thinking this. Right here, right now, all he knew was that he needed this as much as Dean seemed to. Needed to feel Dean’s strong arms around him, branding him, telling him this was where he belonged.

One more step and the back of his knee was against the mattress. He fell back, pulling Dean with him, all of his air leaving his body as Dean’s weight landed on him. When their mouths parted, he took a few deep breaths. Just when had Dean’s scent been so intoxicating?

Lifting his face, he locked gazes with Dean. “Again.”

* * *

  
_Don’t bite…_

How the hell could that be his brother’s only protest? Why the hell wasn’t Sam stopping him? Would Dean have even listened if he tried? He didn’t know, and that thought should have scared him. A lot. The all consuming desire he felt for his brother should be swamping him with guilt, but it wasn’t. He simply couldn’t think beyond the need to touch, taste, claim…

He could barely pull away from Sam for long enough so that the younger man could get the door open and as soon as they were inside, as soon as the door shut out the rest of the world, he was advancing on his brother again. A hunter stalking his prey. He’d never felt hunger like this before. Hungry for the taste of the younger man’s flesh. His lips. His body. His cock. Dean wanted it all.

_Mine…_

His arms were around the younger man again. Clutching and pulling. His fingers twisting in fabric when he wanted to feel bare skin. His mouth welded over his brother’s, lips crushing, teeth clicking, tongues tangling wetly. Swallowing each other’s moans and sharing breath.

Suddenly they were falling, and he was landing hard on top of the younger man. Feeling the air pushed out of his brother’s body, as their lips finally parted, and they both laid there gasping for breath out of sheer necessity. He stared down into his brother’s flushed face, pupils blown wide with lust, the younger man’s hard body pinned beneath his weight, exactly where he belonged, and he knew he had never seen anything more perfect in his life.

With a low growl Dean took his brother’s lips again, pushing him back even further into the mattress as he aligned their hips, rubbing his hard cock against his brother’s. His fingers twisting in the other man’s shirt and pulling hard. Hearing fabric rip, buttons popping and flying but he didn’t care because he was touching his brother’s bare flesh, mapping every inch of Sam’s hard muscled chest with his hands.

Straddling the younger man’s waist, Dean broke their kiss with a gasp and pushed himself up just enough to look. Wanting to see his hands touching his brother, marking him, owning him… and that’s when he saw another mark on the base of the younger man’s neck. Not more than a few days old, and the elder man saw red. His hand suddenly gripping his brother’s neck, right over the mark, as he glared furiously down at Sam.

“What the fuck is this?” He growled.

* * *

Holy fuck, Sam had never felt this desperate for anything. As Dean tore his shirt off, he tried to help him, groaning as his brother’s hard, calloused hands moved over him like they owned him. This shouldn’t be so good... but it was... Sam was surging up to meet Dean’s next touch, and his next one... so good.

When Dean straddled him and his ass pressed down against his Sam’s rock hard arousal, Sam almost came off the bed. Fuck... why was Dean pulling away? “No,” he whimpered, trying to pull him back, needing him, wanting it so bad, he was ready to plead.

His mind was fuzzy but Dean’s harsh words penetrated through the haze. “What?” The fury he saw in Dean’s eyes, had him gripping the mattress and trying to brace... to pull away even as he tried to piece together what he’d done wrong. Feeling Dean’s thumb pressing hard into his throat, for one crazy second, he thought he was about to choke him... and then he understood.

“You,” he rasped. “It was you. Dean... it was you.” Somehow, he knew he had to get through to his brother. Though he should be wresting Dean’s hand off, his instincts told him to appease and reassure. “I swear... you. When you were drunk...” He should be afraid... he should want to hide from the look in Dean’s eyes, he should be terrified by the sheer possessiveness his brother was exhibiting, but instead, he lifted his head up and brought his mouth as close to Dean’s as he could.

* * *

Fury and arousal. Jealousy and need. Every pounding beat of his heart it felt like fire and poison was pumping through his veins at the same time. He could smell arousal and fear rolling off the younger man in waves, and his brother had every reason to be afraid. As he stared down into his brother’s wide eyes, his flushed face and lips swollen from his kisses, hunger and anger fought for control inside of him. He felt it eating away at him from the inside. Completely beyond his control.

What the hell was he doing? He didn’t even recognize himself right now. It should have scared the shit out of him. Instead all he could think about was how someone else had touched what was his. Someone else had marked what belonged to him, and whoever it was, he wanted rip their fucking hands off…

_You…_

Dean blinked. His brother’s answer shocking him enough that he paused, staring down at the younger man with narrowed eyes. His thumb brushing lightly over the mark as he tried to comprehend what Sam was telling him. He’d done this? When he was drunk? The elder man stared down into his brother’s eyes, trying to tell if Sam was telling the truth or just telling him what he thought he wanted to hear… No, his brother wasn’t lying, he had really done this…

He knew he should feel guilty. Fuck, he should be fucking horrified by what he had done, instead he only felt… relieved… if that was even the right word. His hand relaxing on his brother’s neck, and an almost tender look entering his eyes as his hand slipped around to cradle the back of the younger man’s head. Pulling Sam up the rest of the way for their mouths to meet again, kissing his brother slowly and deeply. Licking his way into the younger man’s mouth, exploring every inch as though he had all the time in the world.

Then he let go of his brother and pushed him back down onto the bed with a low growl. Desire once more taking over as he sat up. Still pinning the younger man in place and letting his ass rub firmly against his brother’s crotch as he stripped off his jacket and threw it somewhere onto the floor. His t-shirt following quickly. His lust filled eyes never leaving the younger man’s.

Leaning over his brother once more he pressed their bare chests together. With a low rumbling moan in his throat as his lips fastened over the partially faded mark on the younger man’s neck. Sucking a new bruise into place directly over the old one.

* * *

Sam mindlessly arched his hips, taking all the friction his brother would allow as he stripped. The stark lust in his eyes was hypnotic and Sam couldn’t look away, even if he’d wanted to.

He groaned as his brother’s weight came back down over him, pressing him into the mattress. As their stomachs slid together, he shuddered with need, and put his arms around Dean, dragging him closer, running his hands all over his smooth back and loving the feel of his muscles working under his palm as he strained and moved.

A weak protest broke from him as he felt Dean suck hard on his throat and heard him make a sound that couldn’t be mistaken... it spoke of ownership, pure and simple. “Such a caveman, Dean,” he managed to whisper, but he wasn’t so sure Dean was even listening.

Oh God it went on and on, until Sam was a writhing mess under Dean, and he was begging to be kissed again. Frustrated, he tried to roll Dean over, and finally his brother lifted his face up. The savage look in his eyes made Sam pause.

The hell with that, he didn’t care who was on top... he didn’t fucking care who did the dominating, he just needed more pressure any way he could get is. Sliding his hands down to Dean’s ass he squeezed, lifting his hips up, biting his lower lip as he strained to relieve some of the ache in his pulsing cock. “Fuck me harder, Dean. Dammit... I need you.”

* * *

The way Sam was moving underneath him. Clutching at him. Moaning, and squirming, and arching into his every touch was driving Dean absolutely mad with lust. He'd never felt like this before. So consumed with desire. His every sense, touch, taste, smell, filled with Sam and it was driving him insane. Driving him wild with desire. The desire to mark, claim, dominate. Driving him to take all that was offered and more.

He was trying so hard, so damn hard, to maintain some semblance of control, but Dean knew it was a losing battle before it even began. Now that the dam had broken there was nothing that could stop this flood. He just couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

He couldn't stop tasting his brother's flesh, licking the taste of salt and desire from his skin. Growling in pleasure, his teeth coming just shy of breaking the skin as he marked his brother's flesh like he owned him. As far as the wild animal inside him was concerned, he did own him. His brother's body belonged to him, and now everyone would know it. Anyone who tried to say differently, even Sam, Dean knew there would be hell to pay…

This sheer possessiveness he felt over his brother should have scared the hell out of him, but the more Sam gave into him the more it turned him on more. Not that he was giving his brother much choice, and yet, Sam still chose to let him. Giving into him. Letting himself be dominated. Owned…

Only when he'd felt his brother's hands pushing at his shoulders, trying to move him did the elder man lift his head, lifting his mouth away from Sam's throat and the angry red mark he'd left. Almost growling at his brother for daring to try to move him, but the aggressive sound died in his throat when Sam's hands shifted on him again, clutching his ass and grinding up against him. Begging…

_Fuck me… harder… need you…_

Whatever control Dean had left he felt those fragile threads snapping one by one as he surged forward and crushed his mouth to his brother's again. His hands tugging roughly at the waistband of the younger man's jeans, unbuttoning and then yanking them and his brother's underwear down his legs. Pulling away from Sam just long enough even to practically rip them completely off the younger man. Leaving Sam completely naked lying on the bed in front of him, and for just a moment he paused.

Panting heavily, his eyes drank in the sight of his beautiful brother sprawled out naked in front of him. His skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. Flushed and trembling with desire. His hard cock resting against his stomach weeping and begging for attention.

"Sammy…" He breathed his brother's name in near awe, full of tenderness and love before the wildness took over again and his hands settled on the younger man's thighs. Pushing his brother's legs up and apart and settling between them as his mouth kissed a hot trail up Sam's inner thigh from the younger man's knee to his groin. Biting down at the sensitive skin where Sam's leg met his thigh, not hard enough to break the skin but definitely enough to leave a bruise that Sam would feel for days after this. Lapping at the abused skin to sooth the ache before continuing on his path.

He looked up the length of the younger man's body, letting his breath ghost hotly over his brother's length before sliding his tongue up the sensitive underside from base to tip.

* * *

A strange thrill ripped through Sam when he saw the instant affect of his demand on his brother. Dean was all over him, mauling him, taking his mouth with brute force that would leave both of them swollen and aching. Yes, oh God yes. So fucking out of control, he couldn’t get enough as he clutched Dean’s back, raising his mouth to meet every hot furious kiss, raising his hips and dragging his body against his brothers, groaning each time he managed to rub against Dean’s arousal.

Rough hands started to tug on his waistband, and his hand were impatiently pushed away when he tried to help. He was given a second’s warning to lift up as the material was practically ripped off his legs with his briefs.

Mouth burning, every part of his body aching with need, he suddenly found himself completely naked with his brother’s eyes raking over every exposed part of him. Just for a second, when Dean said his name, Sam saw a softness in his brother that was a rare sight. His heart did a very girly flip.

Then he was being manhandled again, his thighs pulled apart as Dean’s head dipped down. He cried out at the pressure of Dean’s teeth against his flesh, his heart constricting with fear. He was shaking his head no, even though the sheer possessive act had him almost coming right there.

But when his brother’s face suddenly moved between his legs, Sam felt so fucking vulnerable. His heart slammed to a stop and he clutched at the blankets, digging his heels into the mattress and trying to push away. A new flush crept across his face, and he wished Dean would just blanket him again instead of stare at his privates like that. Cocking his head to the side, he started to close his legs but his brother wasn’t having it... and then his hot breath was skimming over his aching cock and Sam gave an involuntary groan even before his brothers wet tongue slid up his shaft and had him jerking up under the sheer intensity of pleasure tearing through him. “Dean!” He was panting, and staring at his brother... sharp need warring with the instinct to force Dean back up over him.

* * *

He felt Sam try to pull away and Dean’s fingers tightened hard on the younger man’s thighs. His short nails leaving small crescent shapes in his brother’s skin but not caring. His eyes narrowed with a low growl, forcing the younger man’s legs open wide as his mouth continued to explore and tease every inch of his brother’s cock. His eyes never leaving Sam’s as he licked around the sensitive crown, the tip of his tongue flicking teasingly into his slit, before sliding it flat down and then back up its length again and again.

Dean held his brother down firmly, not letting him thrust or buck up into his mouth while he tortured the younger man slowly. Savoring every desperate moan he pulled from his brother’s throat, loving the way Sam trembled harder under his hands, so close to the edge but not letting the younger man come.

Not yet.

With one last teasing lick to the tip of his brother’s shaft, Dean pulled back. Panting heavily as he stared down at his brother and then without warning flipped the younger man over onto his stomach. Still grasping Sam’s hips tightly he forced his brother up onto knees. His heart almost stopping completely at the sight as his hands began to move slowly over the younger man’s hips and the curve of his ass.

“So fucking beautiful, Sammy…” He breathed as he molded himself over the younger man’s back. Pressing soft kisses to the back of his brother’s neck and shoulders, and slowly tracing down the line of his spine with the tip of his tongue. Still holding Sam in place with one hand on his hip his other slid between his legs to grasp and slowly stroke his brother’s arousal.

* * *

Sam winced as Dean’s fingers dug too deep into his thighs. His breath was knocked out of him at the savage warning that had him nodding and stopping his attempts to cover up. There was no doubt about it, Dean would have this his way.

Any fear he felt was gone though, the instant Dean attacked his cock with his mouth. His tongue and mouth never stopped moving, never stopped touching and teasing, making him so fucking hard and needy, he thought he was gonna die. He tried to fuck Dean’s mouth, needing it so bad, but Dean had him pinned and wasn’t letting him find the relief he needed.

“Oh God, oh God Dean, please... please... Dean,” he was thrashing his head from side to side and clutching and twisting the sheets as he strained for more, begged for it till his throat was raw, until he thought there was no end in sight... that Dean was going to torture him all night. “Dean pl— umf.”

He found himself rolled onto his stomach, still hurting for release. He might have scrambled away to help himself, but Dean wasn’t having that either. Wordless commands giving through pushing and pulling had him rearranged so he was on his knees and elbows. “What...”

Then the rough material of Dean’s jeans was pressed against his ass, his arousal rock hard and nudging his sack. “Fuck... Dean?”

His heart hammered as his brother’s mouth moved down his back and he heard him call him _beautiful_ , which had to be a crock... in this position, with his ass up high in the air. Before he could overthink it, Dean’s hand moved around his waist, then between his legs and suddenly he was being stroked so hard, so fucking good that sounds of pleasure started to break from him. “Yeah... good...“

He felt Dean pressing against every inch of him, the backs of his legs against Dean’s thighs, Dean’s groin against his ass, his chest pressing him down as his hand worked Sam’s cock. Sam took it for a while, pleasure wracking his body with every stroke of Dean’s fist around his cock. But he wanted to kiss, he wanted to hold Dean, he ached to see him.

Bracing his hands on the bed, he pushed himself up, trying to rise up only onto his knees so he could turn his head and find Dean’s mouth. “Dean...”

* * *

He felt the younger man shift beneath him, pushing up, and Dean’s hand immediately moved from Sam’s hip to the back of his brother’s neck and shoved his brother back down roughly.

“Don’t move.” He ordered as his other hand continued to work on his brother’s cock. Pulling and stroking and squeezing his pulsing flesh. Rubbing his trapped arousal against the curve of his brother’s ass and watching the younger man with lust filled eyes as Sam writhed and moaned. Feeling his brother tensing beneath his hand. His cock growing impossibly harder, his balls tightening and he knew Sam was close. So damn close.

Just as he felt his brother was going to release, he gripped the base of the younger man’s cock hard, preventing him from coming. Holding Sam down even more firmly when his brother began to thrash, whining in protest.

“Not yet, Sammy… soon… I promise…” Dean practically purred, his hand stroking the back of his brother’s neck soothingly. Fingers trailing down the sweat slicked muscles of his back and sides, caressing his flanks as he leaned over his brother again and started raining kisses over his shoulders once more. Pushed as close to the edge as Sam was.

When he was sure that his brother was not going to come yet, Dean finally released the younger man’s shaft. His fingers wet with the come that had leaked from his brother’s straining shaft. Straightening up, he shifted away from the younger man a little. Kneeling behind his brother and running his hand down the length of the younger man’s spine once more before settling on the curve of Sam’s beautiful ass. Spreading him with his fingers, and slowly easing one slick digit into the younger man’s tight hole.

* * *

Sam's protest at having his face shoved back down almost to the mattress was quickly forgotten as his brother gave him what he needed. With each stroke of calloused palms up and down his shaft, with each squeeze, Dean was winding him up so tight Sam knew he was about to blow so fucking hard. He started to fuck Dean's fist, a slave to mindless lust... he was reaching, needing... "oh God, yeah... Dean..."

Just when he was teetering right over the edge, he felt Dean squeeze the base of his cock. "No... no..." he panicked, looking back in misery as all the stroking stopped and his brother's finger pressed in just the right spot to prevent him from coming. His voice was so thick as he begged and cursed at Dean, close to crying... close to telling him to take a hike... so close that even the kisses down his back didn't comfort him.

Dean had no idea... he couldn't know how much Sam needed to come, or he wouldn't be that cruel. He was still trying to make sense of the game his brother was playing at when he realized his brother's finger was penetrating him. He froze... no more protests, no more thrashing or trying to get way... he just froze, body and mind.

Everything changed. The game changed. Once his brother had his finger deep inside him, Sam relaxed a little. He swallowed hard. "Dean, I don't know—"

Blinding heat struck him unexpectedly as Dean started to move his finger deeper. What the... he turned his head, looking back... waiting... needing... not knowing exactly what to ask for, but trusting Dean to have the answers.

* * *

Dean bit his lips and held his breath as he watched his finger disappear as deep into his brother’s body as it could go. Fuck…

Sam was so hot inside. So fucking tight.

“Just relax, Sammy…” He whispered as he slowly began to move his finger in and out of the younger man, carefully opening him up, fucking him slowly, he could barely think about anything else except how good it felt. Just imagining that tight heat wrapped around his aching cock as he thrust hard inside the younger man had him nearly blowing his load against the front of his already sticky jeans, and wouldn’t that just be fucking embarrassing after all of that?

God above, this shouldn’t be turning him on so much… This shouldn’t be turning him on at ALL for fucks sake! This was Sam, his little brother… But all the denial in the world didn’t seem to matter, because it wasn’t stopping him. Not the fact that it was his little brother he was getting ready to fuck. Not the fact that Dean Winchester, despite a little bit of experimenting in the past, would swear up and down he only liked women.

Yeah right… and that’s why the sight of his brother bent over with his ass in the air as he pushed a second finger into Sam’s tight quivering body was making the elder man practically spontaneously combust with lust he felt so fucking hot right now. He wanted to just forget about all this fucking foreplay, preparing the younger man, and just plunge himself deeply into his brother’s body. Fuck him hard and fast, take whatever he wanted from Sam and more… God help him…

He met his brother’s eyes when the younger man looked back at him, questioning and so trusting at the same time Dean felt his heart lurch. He reigned in the wild desire that was devouring him up inside through force of will alone. Curling his fingers as he pushed them deeply into the younger man’s body, searching for the place he knew would bring his brother the most pleasure possible.

It wasn’t going to be enough, Dean realized quickly. Sam was just too tight, and he knew he just didn’t have the patience to go searching for something better to slick his brother up with. But he didn’t want to hurt Sam… he’d rather die than hurt his brother.

“Trust me, Sam.” Dean said softly as he ran his palm soothingly over the curve of his brother’s ass, up the small of his back, and back down.

Leaning down to press soft kisses from the middle of the younger man’s spine working his way lower, using his tongue more as he neared his brother’s buttocks. His fingers spreading the younger man’s cheeks wider, and holding him firmly to keep Sam from bucking as he licked wetly down his crease. Tracing around the younger man’s hole stretched tightly around his fingers still working in and out of his body before pushing his tongue wetly in beside them.

* * *

Trust me he said. Sam shivered at the look that passed between them.

Putting his arms down on the bed, he bent lower and rested his forehead on his arms, squirming as Dean kissed his way down past the small of his back and between his cheeks. Sensitized like he couldn’t believe, he felt every hot breath skimming over and around his hole. It made him edgy with anticipation... made him buck, until Dean’s hands held him in place and he couldn’t move.

The sensation of Dean’s wet tongue sliding over his hole sent his senses reeling. His whimpered plea was quickly answered when Dean pushed his tongue inside. His entire body hummed and throbbed with need as he clenched around Dean’s fingers and tongue, wanting more... needing it. He bit down on his lip, trying not to beg, trying so damn hard. But he broke.

Rising up, he looked back... he couldn’t see his brothers face at all now. “Dean. I need you. Now.” His voice was desperately quiet, a calm that held back a violent storm of desire.

* * *

Shouldn’t he feel disgusted? Shouldn’t he feel the slightest bit of hesitation, or at least embarrassment doing this? This, something Dean had never done for anyone before, and was now doing to his _brother_ …

But he didn’t feel anything but desire and pleasure. Pride even, the way Sam whimpered and moaned in response, clenching around his fingers and tongue as they worked inside his tight body, relaxing the younger man’s muscles and trying get him as wet as possible. Readying him for a much larger intrusion.

He was almost beyond thinking entirely. Base instincts pushing away almost all rational thought. It would be easy. So damn easy to just let it all go. Let the wildness take over. Let it do anything it wanted and damn the consequences. But this was his brother. His Sammy. And for that reason alone Dean held on. Barely. But he held on.

When his brother’s quiet plea reached his ears Dean lifted his head. Pulling back. Their eyes meeting as he pulled his slick fingers out of the younger man carefully. Finally unbuttoning and pushing down his jeans and briefs to the middle of his thighs with an almost pained groan as his cock was freed.

Angry and red, and wet from his own leaking fluids, he stroked himself twice, making sure every inch of him was slick, before he grasped Sam’s hips once more. Steadying himself as he lined the head of his arousal with his brother’s body.

“Relax, Sammy.” The elder man repeated softly as he began to press forward tortuously slow. Groaning deep in his throat as he carefully breached his brother’s tight ring of muscles. Filling him. His fingers digging into the flesh of Sam’s hips almost brutally as he tried to force himself to go slow. Even though every instinct he had screamed for him to just plunge forward and fuck his baby brother through the mattress with abandonment.

Dean panted. His body shook. His heart hammered against his ribs like it was trying to break free from his chest. He could feel his desperate grasp on his control slipping like sand through his fingers no matter how hard he clung to it. He knew he could only give his brother another few seconds to adjust to him. Another few heartbeats… and then he was lost…

Pulling Sam’s hips back hard against him as he thrust forward, filling his brother to the hilt with a cry that was as much defeat as it was triumph. As much pain as pleasure.

* * *

He felt Dean aligning himself. Felt his heart thundering. His blood pounded in his head, in his ears. Last chance... if he wanted to stop, this was his last chance... But then he heard his brother and the need in his voice ... the sheer torment... almost had Sam coming. He wanted what Dean wanted, it was as simple as that.

He wanted his brother to take him to a place he’d never been... a place just for them. Maybe if he thought about it a bit more, he’d think he was a sick puppy... but right now, all that counted was the man behind him wanted him in a way that he couldn’t... wouldn’t deny.

His stomach clenched. His fingers twisted around the sheets as he groaned out a heated breath, closing his eyes against the blinding pain as Dean pushed inside. _Too much. Too much._ He cried out as Dean’s hands bit into his hips, and tensed at the assault that never came. Dean was waiting... he was shaking and on edge... but he was waiting on him.

Blowing his breath out, Sam tried to relax. He imagined it was Dean’s soft tongue again, imagined how he’d felt each time Dean had touched him from the inside. Dean pushed again, this time so hard he was inside him... all the way, splitting him open.

Moist beads rolled down Sam’s forehead. It was gonna be okay, Dean said so. It was gonna be okay. The mantra relaxed him and he found the courage to push back against Dean, push back and squeeze his cock, determined now to give his brother pleasure. “Go on. I know you want to.”

He was flashing on how pushy and possessive Dean had been when he tried to put him in his place by forcing him against the tree, and then tonight, when he corrected him on whom he was aroused for. Even in the coffee shop, when he’d almost broken his wrist, Sam knew now how hard Dean had to fight against his new instincts. That when it came to Sam... he would fight them. The thought alone gave him a strange sense of power over his brother who was intent on dominating him.

Smirking slightly, he turned his head. “Fuck me like you want to. I can take it.”

* * *

Sam pushing back against him, squeezing around him, his brother’s words of reassurance was all Dean needed to hear. Not that he could have stopped himself now if he tried, even if he wanted to. He was too far gone to turn back now.

“Sammy…” He growled his brother’s name desperately, still holding the younger man’s hips tightly, controlling, as he started to move. It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t anything like a first time should be. Dean’s thrusts were hard. The slap of skin on skin audible as he fucked into the younger man with near abandonment. His cock sliding out almost completely and plunging back in deep with every forceful movement of his hips.

Possessive, almost animalistic, growls and groans of pleasure escaped his throat with every thrust as he fucked his brother exactly how he wanted to. Exactly how he needed to. Claiming the younger man. Knowing he was being almost too rough, almost hurting, that Sam would probably feel him for days deep inside, but he couldn’t make himself stop. He could only try to make it as good for Sam as it was for him.

Angling his thrusts to hit that sensitive place inside his brother with every thrust. Reaching around his brother’s waist with one hand and once more took the younger man’s cock in his hand. Stroking Sam in time with the deep movements inside of him. Squeezing, his thumb circling teasingly around the crown on every upstroke.

“Sam… Sam…” Dean panted his brother’s name. Releasing his brother’s hip and sliding his free hand up and down the younger man’s body. Touching him everywhere. His ass. His thighs. His back and shoulders. Sliding through his brother’s hair, petting, and then once more exploring his body.

Then in a quick movement, Dean leaned down, wrapped his arm around Sam’s chest, and pulled the younger man up onto his knees, back against his chest. The change in position forcing his cock deeper into his brother’s body and Dean groaned as he began fucking up into his brother even harder. One hand still working on the younger man’s cock while his other continued to slide up and down his brother’s chest. Pinching his nipples. His lips fastening to the side of his brother’s throat and sucking hard.

The feeling of Sam all around him. His brother’s body. His smell. His taste. All working to drive him to the edge faster than he would have ever thought possible. He lifted his mouth from his brother’s neck, kissing his way up to nibble on the shell of his ear. Panting roughly into it as he whispered, “Come for me, baby… Come for me, Sam…”

It was an order, not a request.

* * *

White hot pain pierced Sam’s body with each hard thrust of Dean’s hips. He bit his lip, trying not to cry out, trying to take it without complaint. He concentrated on Dean’s voice, the low primitive sounds coming from him, the way he was holding him... owning him. How hard and thick he was inside him, how he moved like a well oiled piston, relentless... unstoppable. _Unstoppable ... for me._

Maybe it was the knowledge that Dean’s world had narrowed to just him. Or maybe he got used to the rhythm, and Dean had regained just enough control to hit that spot inside him that drove him crazy. Whatever it was, Sam got caught up in it and started moving with Dean, bucking back... groaning as he was fucked within and inch of his life. Each time Dean slammed into him, the entire bed moved and Sam put one hand out to keep himself from going face first into the headboard.

His brother’s mouth was all over him, his hands groping, touching, trapping... Sam wanted to touch him back, he wanted to kiss Dean, he wanted to see his face, wanted to tell him how good it felt, how he was making him burn from the inside as well as out, how much the thickness of his voice affected him... “Oh God, Dean... Dean,” he started to call his brother’s name louder as Dean stroked him close to the edge. The bed crashed rhythmically into the wall, punctuating their frantic movements.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get any more intense, Dean dragged him up off his hands. Hell yes... He leaned back, his head on Dean’s shoulder, mouth parted, burning, needing... needing Dean so fucking bad. His brother felt so hard against him, his chest grazing his back, leaving an imprint on him, his powerful thighs lifting both of them practically off the mattress with each upward thrust. And then his brother owned him all over again, devouring him, sucking his neck, claiming his body in every way possible, and commanding him to come.

Refusal wasn’t an option. Sam fucked back against Dean, and thrust into his hand, a writhing, aching, burning mess as the explosive pressure built inside him. He heard Dean calling to him... heard his voice from far. He heard another voice calling... it was his, but he didn’t know what he was saying or even if he was making sense. Spiraling toward a hard climax, Sam thrashed wildly,

“Dean—“ the strangled cry was all the warning he gave before shooting a thick coat of semen all over the headboard.

* * *

“Sammy!” Dean all but howled his brother’s name as he slammed brutally into the younger man’s body one last time. Coming harder than he’d ever come in his entire life.

His fingers still moved on his brother’s pulsing shaft, drawing out Sam’s pleasure as he held the younger man still in a vice like grip against his body. Moaning like he was in pain as he shot thick ropes of hot spunk deeply into his brother’s tight passage. So much he could feel some of it leaking wetly out of Sam’s body around him, and fuck if that didn’t just make him come harder. His body practically convulsing with every wave of pleasure that crashed into him.

The sounds Sam made as his cock pulsed hotly in Dean’s hand, the feel of the younger man’s inner muscles tightening around him, milking his orgasm from him, fuck, the smell of hot sex, sweat, and blood… blood from where Dean had savagely bitten his own lip to keep from biting his brother…

It was like something broke inside of him then. His body crumbled, and he almost didn’t realize they were falling until he landed hard on top of his brother’s back. Gasping heavily against the younger man’s skin, still shaking but for a different reason. Pleasure still burning hot through his veins like fire, even as a bitter cold fear began to pool in his stomach.

Oh god…

* * *

Laying on his stomach, drained, and borderline unconscious, or at least that’s how it felt, it was a while before Sam realized Dean hadn’t moved after collapsing on top of him. His heart was still working hard to pump thick blood through his veins and making him lethargic, too tired to even move an inch.

His mind wasn’t the muddled mess he expected. Instinctively, he knew thinking would be bad, so he refused to think. But there was something he needed, and he waited.

And waited, but Dean didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.

Sam swallowed. “Dean?”

The silence was deafening, but he felt Dean’s heart against his chest, and heard his uneven breaths near his ear... he knew his brother wasn’t asleep.

“Dean,” he tilted his head to the side, though he couldn’t see anything. “I know you’re a caveman and all, but I need two things from you.” He felt his heart constrict. “I just... I could use a hug,” he nodded, feeling his eyes sting slightly. “And a promise. I need to know you’ll be here in the morning. Can you do that for me?” His voice was barely a whisper.

* * *

Dean flinched slightly when his brother said his name. Breaking the silence that had filled the room other than their combined heavy exhausted breaths, and the sound of his own heart thundering in his ears.

He didn’t say anything. What the hell could he say? He didn’t dare move… to tell the truth he wasn’t sure if he even could right now. He felt paralyzed. Trapped by the knowledge of what they’d just done, what he’d done… Like being pinned under a ton of heavy rubble and he felt if shifted one way or another, even an inch, it would all come crashing down on top of him. Crushing him alive.

He wished he could just blame it on the liquor. Unfortunately he knew he hadn’t been so drunk, at least not on booze, that he didn’t know what he was doing, and he wasn’t so drunk that he’d just forget about it in the morning. Forget about how he’d just… how’d he’d just with Sam… fuck…

His brother whispering his name again, the younger man’s soft request, pulled him abruptly out of the downward spiral of his thoughts. Momentarily dragging him back up from the cliffs edge he was dangling on, ready for fall over, where only a crushing death waited for him at the bottom.

For a moment he wondered if Sam was kidding… but, no, his brother’s tone was enough to convince him that Sam was dangling on that edge too, and Dean knew there was no way he’d let his brother fall.

So even though he didn’t want to move, he moved. Sliding out of the younger man’s body as carefully as he could, wincing at the sound his brother made. He was deathly afraid to look to see what damage he might have done, if there was blood… Dean made a soft, shushing, sound. The only thing he could manage at the moment, using what little strength he felt he had left to help Sam roll towards him. So they were face to face once more. He owed Sam that much to give him what he wanted now.

Sliding his arms around the younger man’s body he cradled his brother against his chest. Hugging Sam to him as tightly as he dared, though on some level afraid if he held him too tightly that he might just break him. What if he’d done that already? Dean swallowed hard and closed his eyes as he rested his chin on top of his brother’s head.

“I’ll be here… I promise…” He finally managed to whisper. Even though he was deathly afraid what morning would bring.

* * *

Sam pressed the side of his face into the warmth of Dean's chest, feeling as if he'd regained some of the ground under his feet. "Okay, Dean. Okay." His hand tightened around Dean's arm, and he was out before he could say good night.


	8. Chapter 8

He'd been dead to the world in sleep, but now that he was waking, he wished he could go back to that state. One by one, alarms started ringing in his head. He smelled of sex and of Dean. He was laying on top of Dean... naked, limbs entwined, held loosely, but held nonetheless. He'd let his brother fuck him senseless... till they were both senseless. He took a deep breath as his heart skipped a beat. His body ached, everywhere. In places he didn't know he could ache. He was afraid to get up, and even more afraid to stay.

Nothing would ever be the same. That scared him the most. It hadn't been perfect between them, but it had been perfect for him.

He slowly climbed off his brother and out of bed, wincing when the simple act of sitting sent a shooting pain up his hole. Yeah, it wasn't gonna be easy forgetting... not at all.

Dean was out cold. Damn him. Why did he get to sleep? Why didn't have all the voices in his head? It wasn't fair.

But he'd stayed. He was here.

A lump formed in Sam's throat. It would have been so easy for Dean to hightail it out of here. To use this as an excuse, to use it to prove he could be dangerous. But he'd stayed.

Sam's gaze swept over the room, and flashes of last night struck him between the eyes. How the bed got so wrecked. The dents on the wall where the headboard had slammed repeatedly into the plaster. How their clothes had gotten strewn around. Dean pressing him against the door as he proved Cassandra had nothing to do with his state of arousal. Dean's hand on his back, pushing him down, the way he growled and kept him in line.

One night. How did one night change their lives? What started this chain of events? Was it the close call with the wolves? Was it something from earlier? The drinking? Or even earlier... from when he'd cuffed Dean. No doubt about it, there had been deep emotions on both sides.

*

When he came back to the room with two coffees, Sam didn't remember getting in the shower. He didn't remember dressing. Or picking up all their clothes. Or tossing his torn shirt into the trash. He didn't even remember cleaning the headboard, or how hard he'd had to fight to keep from pulling the sheets off the bed with Dean still sleeping on them.

One thing he didn't forget, because he couldn't, was the ache that plagued him with every step he took, and which doubled in strength when he sat.

* * *

Dean came awake slowly. He wasn’t sure if it was the coffee, or the soft sounds of movement in the room that had finally begun to draw him out of his death like slumber. Nothing like a caffeine addiction to set ones priorities straight. Too bad the smell of coffee wasn’t strong enough to drown out the scent of stale sweat and sex that still hung heavy in the room like a cheap brothel. The scent of his brother clinging stubbornly to every inch of his skin…

His eyes remained closed. Feigning sleep. The subtle change in his breathing, other than the pounding rhythm of his heart, the only sign he was awake.

_Fucking coward._ An angry voice whispered in his head, and Dean wholeheartedly agreed. Like he really needed any more guilt or shame piled on top of the mountain that was already trying to crush him. Unfortunately it didn’t shame him enough to open his eyes. Not yet anyway. He just… needed a few moments, to get his head together before facing… everything…

What a polite way to put it. How about the colossal shit storm he’d made out of their lives because of the simple fact that he was alive. Because he was a fucking animal. Because he’d… Fuck, why beat around the bush? Because he’d fucked his baby brother raw last night and loved every minute of it.

Dean tensed, and he knew he wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending to be asleep, but he wasn’t really thinking about that right now. Even as guilt twisted like a hot knife in his stomach making him want to retch, the memory of how his brother had felt like in his hands, how he’d tasted, what he’d sounded like when he came, it made his skin flush, excitement stirring him… fuck, he could get hard right now if he let himself… he was thinking about his little brother! Sammy… But his body didn’t seem to care how his mind objected.

He was keenly aware of his mostly naked state. He was still dressed in his jeans, for what it was worth, though they were still bunched around the middle of his thighs leaving him completely exposed without even a sheet covering him. Strangely he felt very little modesty over this, but why hadn’t Sam at least covered him up so he wouldn’t have to look at him after…

Last night Sam had wanted him to hold him. Had asked him to promise not to leave in the morning. But now Dean was the one waking up to empty arms. Alone. He didn’t know what to feel about that. What fucking right did he have to feel anything? After what he’d done to his brother… and he wasn’t really alone in the room anyway. Sam was there, he could smell him.

Why hadn’t Sam left? Why hadn’t his brother put a fucking bullet in his brain while he slept? Instead… Sam had brought him coffee…

He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. Why the hell couldn’t anything just be… normal… again? How the hell could he have believed, even for a few hours, things could be like they once were? Everything was just going from bad to worse. Always bad to worse… he was a fool to think it could be otherwise, and now Sam was paying the price for it. Again.

Time to face the music. Face what he had done. He owed his brother that much at least.

Dean opened his eyes slowly, turning his head to look at the younger man sitting at the table by the window with his laptop. It was obvious Sam had showered and dressed before going to get them coffee. He looked mostly relaxed, even though he was staring intently at the laptop screen, and Dean felt his heart twist a little more seeing the very subtle signs even his father had never been able to pick up that his brother was anything but relaxed. Dean didn’t fail to notice also that sitting over by the window like he was Sam was about as far away from him as he could possibly be and still be in the same room.

The elder man swallowed hard before he glanced away and pushed himself up slowly. Fuck, if he felt this sore then Sam… Dean swallowed again and blinked back the stinging in his eyes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to the younger man, as he pulled up his jeans to at least cover himself even if they were disgusting.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the edge of the bed. His fingers digging into the mattress like he was afraid he was going to fall off or something if he let go.

“I’m going to take a shower.” He finally said softly, barely recognizing his own voice as he stood. Feeling strangely numb as he walked across the room and shut the bathroom door behind him. Yeah, he was running away. So much for facing the music…

_Coward._ The voice whispered again, but at the moment Dean wasn’t really listening to it. He was too busy wondering what it meant, if it meant anything at all, that Sam hadn’t tried to stop him.

* * *

“Okay Dean,” Sam answered long after the door was shut, leaving him alone in the room. Putting his hand on the table, he pulled himself up, slowing before he straightened completely. He glanced at the steaming coffee he’d left on the night stand, still untouched.

Any other day, a third of the liquid would be in Dean’s stomach before he hit the shower. Guess he had to wash off the…

He let out a soft breath of air and started to put their stuff away, into the duffel bags. His, Deans, his… every time he bent, he winced, every time he stood… he felt like an old man. Every time he looked at the bed, he reminded himself he wasn’t going to allow himself to wallow in shame or regret. It was over. Done with.

Still, he pulled the sheets all the way up over the pillows. Then the blankets. Then the damned spread that had slipped to the ground, covering every shred of evidence. By the time he was done, his heart was slamming in his chest, and he didn’t even know why.

He was back at the desk, packing his lap top up, when he heard the bathroom door open. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Dean emerge with a towel around his waist. He waited to see if his brother had anything to say to him. Nothing.

“I talked to dad.” He dropped the lap top into the messenger bag, and zipped it. “He’s got the car ready, a couple towns over. I asked Andrea, the neighbor, if we could use her car… leave it there for her.” His throat constricted slightly. “I don’t know why, but she said yes and didn’t ask any questions. So that’s what we’re doing.”

* * *

Though the scalding hot water had rinsed away every trace of sex from his skin, erased the smell of his brother from his flesh, it couldn’t erase the memory of Sam’s touch. If only it were that easy. To scrub away the memories as easily as he scrubbed his teeth clean, removing the taste of his brother from his mouth.

But it couldn’t. Couldn’t banish the memory of being so deep inside of his brother, feeling Sam so hot and tight around him. His brother crying out his name over and over, taking everything he had to give and giving more. Clutching at him, begging for him…

Dean stood with his hands braced on the cold porcelain sink. Staring into the foggy glass of the mirror, unable to see his own reflection, and that was probably a good thing because he was liable to put his fist through it. He had done a lot of fucked up things in his life. A lot… but this…

Forcing his brother against the door of their room… Kissing him brutally… Why hadn’t Sam stopped him? What would he have done if Sam had tried to stop him? No, he didn’t blame Sam for this. He’d given his brother no choice, absolutely no choice, but to go along with him. His _teeth_ had been at the younger man’s _throat_ for god sakes.

_Don’t bite._

His fingers clenched remembering his brother’s protest. The only one he’d really given. So easily he could have… so easily… If Sam hadn’t given him what he wanted. If his brother hadn’t… participated… to his satisfaction. He had practically raped his brother last night… Dean hung his head and laughed bitterly to himself. Practically?

Dean wasn’t sure how long he stood there, or what finally prompted him to move. For all he cared he could have stood there till he rotted, but instead he wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door. Funny… why weren’t his hands shaking? Somehow he thought they should be, but he supposed that would take feeling something and right now all Dean felt was hallow, empty, cold…

He didn’t miss how all their things were now packed away. Nor did he miss how Sam had roughly made the bed, hiding the ‘evidence’ of what they’d done… what he’d done to his brother. He looked at the younger man now packing away his laptop. Didn’t miss how stiffly his brother was moving. He heard what the younger man was saying. Talked to dad, Dean wondered briefly exactly what Sam had told him, though he knew he’d never ask. The car, any other time or place Dean would have felt at least a little excitement getting his ‘baby’ back, but now…

“Fine.” Was all Dean said at last when his brother mentioned borrowing the neighbor’s car to get their own. He wondered if his voice really sounded as hollow and empty as the rest of him or if it was only because he felt that way that made it seem so. Then again, he really didn’t care. Thankfully neither did Sam.

Dean went over to his duffel and pulled out some clothes. Dressing quickly. If he had been thinking slightly more clearly he probably would have gone into the bathroom to dress so at least Sam wouldn’t have had to see him. But considering it felt monumentally difficult to concentrate enough just to button his shirt, he couldn’t really be blamed for not thinking. Or maybe he could. Him not thinking is what had gotten them into all this, after all.

He zipped up his duffel again, leaving his come stained jeans in the bathroom on the floor, he was sure the cleaning staff had found much worse, and it wasn’t like he was going to ever wear them again even if they were cleaned. Dean then hefted both bags, almost expecting a protest from his brother and the fact that he didn’t get one was probably the most telling of all how much he’d hurt Sam last night. Physically. Not to mention emotionally or psychologically.

Still without a word Dean tossed the bags into the back of their borrowed car and then went to get in. The passenger’s side. Normally he insisted on driving everywhere, but today he just didn’t trust himself. Understatement. He didn’t realize until they were already out the door that he didn’t even touch the coffee Sam had brought for him once.

The drive was silent save for the crappy soft rock playing on the radio station that neither one of them bothered to change. Probably because neither one of them were listening to it anyway. It only took them about an hour and a half to get to the town where a buddy of Dad’s had dropped off the impala for them. Still, every second seemed to stretch into an uncomfortable eternity.

Still, no words passed between them when they got out of their borrowed car and Dean transferred their bags from one trunk to the other. Even seeing his car again for the first time in six months did nothing to lift his spirits in the slightest, if anything, the reminder of how things could have been, and had been, before only darkened them more. With a sigh he walked around, to the passenger side again, and waited for his brother to unlock the door.

* * *

It was hard to say whether he was relieved at the silence, or would have preferred they discuss the weather or how it was nice to be getting away from that one street town. One thing he did know was that every moment of silence widened the chasm between them.

With the keys to the Impala in his hands, and Dean walking to the passenger side instead of taking them, Sam was lost. He looked at Dean for the first time in hours, but his brother refused to look back. He couldn’t tell if it was because of shame or revulsion. Drawing a breath that sounded more like a sniff, he just nodded and opened the driver’s door and got in.

Reaching to unlock Dean’s door, Sam made an almost inaudible sound of pain, slowing his motions. Mentally, he cursed Dean for his refusal to modernize the car just a little. Just another reminder of his cave man outlook.

Once Dean settled in, Sam nodded toward the glove compartment. “Dad left us maps.” Instead of getting the maps and directions and looking at them, his brother merely passed them to him. “Dean.” Words escaped Sam, so he just started reading his father’s bold scrawl. Turning the map around, he looked at the two destinations their dad had marked for them to choose from.

“I vote for bigger town,” he turned his head, or he wouldn’t have caught Dean’s almost imperceptible nod of agreement. Sighing, then kicking himself for it, he neatly folded the map so he could follow it, and put it to the side. Starting Dean’s precious Impala, he wondered just for a second what would happen if he was reckless driving it.

* * *

Dean stared out the window, watching the country speed by, but not really seeing any of it. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, after all. Sometimes he thought they’d been on every road, seen every inch of the lower 48 states, and even some of Canada, as Dad dragged them along from one hunt to another.

Trees. Fields. Telephone poles. One house after another. It all began to look the same after a while till he swore they were driving in circles even when he knew they weren’t.

He was beyond bored after the first hour of driving. Actually he wasn’t driving, he was sitting. Dean didn’t mind driving. He loved it even. Especially when he was behind the wheel of this car. But he’d let Sam keep the keys, and maybe that was a mistake in hindsight because now all he had to do was sit and think.

He didn’t want to think, so he looked out the window. It was easier to look out than inside. Better to stare at places and strangers going about their boring everyday lives that he’d never meet then to, look at the person who meant the most to him, and remember how he had hurt him in the worst possible way.

Dean leaned his forehead against the cool glass. Closing his eyes and swallowing hard. Sam hadn’t even turned on the radio, or tape player, in the car and the silence was deafening. Torturous even. But he didn’t know how to break it. He couldn’t even look his brother in the eye without his heart feeling like it was being ripped out of his chest and his stomach twisting with so much guilt he felt ill.

He felt so nauseous in fact when Sam offered for them to stop to get something to eat for breakfast, Dean had refused with only a shake of his head. They didn’t stop. At lunch time, Sam didn’t even ask. Though it was around then that the first sound other than the rumbling of the engine and their respective soft breaths pierced the space between them, startling the elder man after it being quiet for so long.

It was Sam’s phone.

* * *

The car ate up the highway with Sam speeding just a little and getting nowhere fast. Minutes slipped into hours and more than half a day was gone, and only a few words were exchanged between them. The words came mostly from him, Dean merely nodded or grunted his agreement. It made him wonder if Dean would agree with him if he said demons has the right to live in human hosts. Made him think Dean wasn’t listening at all.

Yeah, all he did was look out the window or close his eyes. One word, couldn’t he manage just one? Or how about ask for coffee, or turn the fucking radio on. No, he entombed them in silence.

Maybe if dad got back... Maybe that would give them some semblance of normality. Or it would just get weirder.

The sound of his phone pulled him out of the realms of possibilities and struck him full force with reality. “Jess.” Her name broke from him in a low hiss. She was probably out of class now wanting to know why he hadn’t called. Ignoring the insistent ring tone growing louder by the second, he hadn’t even thought of her. Not once. Blocked her out.

When he couldn’t stand the sound anymore, he put out a shaky hand and hit “ignore.” There was a first time for everything.

He took a deep breath. He could handle this. He’d gather his thoughts. He’d call her later. Tell her....

His swallow as audible. Somewhere along the line when he was ‘handling,’ he broke out in a cold sweat. He wanted to ask Dean... but Dean wasn’t there, not really. No one to talk to, no one to talk him through this. His chest started to rise and fall, he couldn’t take full breaths... and all he kept seeing was her face, smiling, trusting...

Slamming his foot on the brakes, he swerved to the side of the road and blindly opened the door even before the car was at a complete stop. Outside, he put both hands behind his head, clasping them together with his elbows almost covering his eyes as he turned around, and around. What had he done? What had he done?

He wanted to shout, he wanted to scream... he wanted to know why. How? How had he slipped off the edge? How had he betrayed _her_ with his brother of all people? “Oh God. Oh God, oh God...” once the words started coming, they wouldn’t stop. They just wouldn’t.

* * *

The insistent ringing of the phone was beginning to grate on his nerves, just how the many fucking rings did it take to go to voicemail? Though a morbid sense of curiosity had Dean wondering in spite of himself why his brother was not answering the phone. If it was their father it was probably important but…

_Jess…_

A human probably wouldn’t have been able to hear the barely whisper, but Dean heard and his expression shifted to confusion as he glanced towards Sam for the first time in hours. The question burning unasked in his mind.

_Who the hell was Jess?_

At least his brother had turned off the damn ringing, but that didn’t stop even more questions from forming in the elder man’s mind. So ‘Jess’ was someone his brother didn’t want to talk to? Or _couldn’t_ talk to? At least not in front of him…

Dean didn’t have the chance to identify the bitter emotion that began forming in the pit of his stomach, and it was probably a good thing. His brother suddenly slamming on the brakes, the abrupt stop throwing the elder man against his seatbelt with a curse rather than the burning poisonous questions that were trying to work free.

However his angry words regarding the treatment of his car died as well in his throat as he watched the younger man get out of the car and just… it looked like his brother was in the middle of a nervous breakdown or something. Concern and his instinct to protect Sam from anything had his hand on the door handle before he realized it, but realization slammed into him quickly and refused to let him open it. Refused to let him go to his distressed brother because he knew somehow _he_ was the reason for this. For all of it. Because he’d…

How the hell was he supposed to help his brother when _he_ was the fucking problem? How the hell was he supposed to protect Sam from himself? His hand fell away from the door as a new level of despair crashed down on top of him with the force of a freight train. There was no way he could ‘fix’ this. Not this. All he could do was watch his brother suffer, and suffer right along with him.

* * *

Ten minutes felt like a life time. Ten lifetimes. The ground had been cut from under Sam’s legs for the second time in too short a period and he was left out of balance. As he leaned against the Impala and took deep breaths, trying to get a hold of himself, trying to stop the shaking that had overtaken his body, he couldn’t think of how things could go worse. One stupid drunken night and he’d lost both his brother and his girlfriend. If his dad ever found out… that would make three.

His eyes stung, but by sheer will he stopped himself from crying. He’d have to get back into that car with Dean, and he couldn’t stand the thought of his brother staring steadfastly out the window as tears streamed down Sam’s face. And that was exactly how it would be. He knew it.

A few more breaths, and he gripped the cold hard door handle and opened it. Easing himself slowly into the driver’s seat, he risked looking at Dean. Right. Still not talking. Still not acknowledging. Running a still shaky hand through his hair, he started the car, looked into the mirror and pulled back onto the highway.

Each of them was lost in his own world, but Sam’s mind kept working… wouldn’t leave him alone. He needed to talk, and Dean was the opposite. It burned him up. Burned him up for miles, until he couldn’t help himself. He asked softly, not even sure he’d get an answer, “Ever cheat on anyone, Dean?”

* * *

A small eternity seemed to pass before the car door opened again and Sam got back in. To be honest, Dean wouldn’t have been all that surprised if his brother _didn’t_ get back in the car with him. That the younger man didn’t just walk away from the impala, him, everything, despite being in the middle of fucking nowhere. Just leaving him there sitting in the car alone. Walking away and never once looking back.

No, wouldn’t have surprised him at all. In fact, it was almost more of a surprise that Sam didn’t do that instead of getting back in the car without a word and starting it up. Pulling back onto the road as though the little ‘interlude’ had never happened.

A hundred questions burned in his mind. Sticking like jagged glass in his throat, refusing to come out and it was probably a good thing because he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answers to any of them.

The silence was almost a blessing then. Unfortunately for both of them, Sam chose _that_ moment to break it.

Dean really wasn’t as dumb as most people thought he was. He might not be the brainiac that Sam was, but he wasn’t a complete idiot either. He was perfectly capable of working problems out on his own, most of the time he just preferred to let other people worry about the ‘details’… unfortunately his brain was deciding to be extra ‘sharp’ right now. Not that it really needed to be. Even a blunt instrument like him could put two and two together.

Sam’s ‘question’ answering most of the questions that Dean really hadn’t wanted answered. Such as ‘who was Jess?’ and ‘why had his brother freaked out just now?’. The possessive monster inside of him that had reared its ugly head inside of him last night suddenly woke up and it was seeing red.

_Ever cheat on anyone?_

His brother had said it so ‘casually’. Obviously having no idea how those words would affect him. Hell, Dean was even shocked by the level of anger and jealousy that was clawing around inside of him. Feelings he had absolutely _no_ right to feel whatsoever. What he’d done to his brother last night… it had been wrong on so many levels where did he even begin? Even though something inside of him had driven him to mark and claim his brother like an animal in heat…

Sam didn’t belong to him. Just because he had forced his brother to… Yet the idea of Sam with someone else, this _Jess_ person…

“Just drive, Sam.” Dean finally managed in a low strained voice. Not even registering the pain from where his fingernails bit into the flesh of his palms he was clenching them so tightly. Fighting back the primal urge growing in him to prove to Sam once more just who his brother belonged to.

* * *

The air thickened, practically crackled with tension. It was a simple question. Why couldn’t he just answer? Why did he stare out the window, as if he’d just been asked the hardest question in the world. Yes or no, how hard was that?

The silence stretched and grew heavier, choking Sam. He glanced over and sucked in his breath at the hard, implacable expression on Dean’s face. Hard as stone. The look he usually reserved for the bad guys, or anyone hassling Sam.

Still, he’d expected an answer, but not the order his brother barked out at him… yeah, it was a quiet bark, but a bark nonetheless.

“Sure, Dean,” he answered woodenly. ‘Yes, Dean.’ ‘Okay, Dean.’ He was so fucking tired of his own answers. He shook his head, and gripped the wheel so tight, his knuckles whitened. Was this how it was gonna be from now on? He didn’t think he could stand it.

He had no choice but to stand it.

One hour, forty eight minutes, and twenty five seconds later, he found himself climbing out of the oppressive mood in the Impala. The motel looked pretty decent from the outside, and there was a 24 hour coffee shop next to it. Outside, he walked by Dean, “I’ll get the room. I’m hungry.” Slowly, he put a twenty dollar bill on the roof of the car, and walked into the motel. If his brother couldn’t stand to see him or talk to him, he sure as hell wouldn’t want to risk touching his fingers either.

Sam filled in the form, forked over some cash and took the keys to the room. By the time he moved the car to a spot right in front of their room, Dean was walking up. He left the trunk open so he could get his bag. Carrying just one was more than enough for Sam right now.

Inside the room, at times, he thought he felt Dean looking at him. But he was wrong, his brother was looking anywhere _but_ at him. He took another couple of bites of the burger, and left the rest on the table. Maybe he’d get hungry later.

Then he moved to the bed, turning on the television just to hear voices. It didn’t matter what was on, he wasn’t really watching. He was tossing his phone from one hand into the other, just staring… not registering much, just staring.

* * *

Dean was glad to be out of the choking atmosphere of the car. The feeling had been worse than whenever they’d have to drive somewhere after Sam and Dad had gotten into a fight. Worse because his brother’s anger was, rightfully so, directed at him this time. Not to mention the elder man was trying, and failing miserably, to deal with his own issues regarding… everything…

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from stiffening when his brother approached him. Like he was more than half expecting Sam to throw a punch at him or something. His brother only laid some money down on top of the roof of the car and Dean stared at it for what felt like a long time before he finally picked it up, shut his car door, and walked over to the coffee shop.

Put in their food order automatically, not even really looking at the menu, since the food was pretty much all the same everywhere in places like this. Thankfully it didn’t take long and he was soon walking back to the motel with two Styrofoam containers.

Sam was walking into the room, leaving the trunk open for him to get his bag out and Dean found himself moving pretty much on autopilot. Shifting the containers to one hand as he hefted is duffel over his shoulder however before he shut the trunk he found himself pausing.

Once more, just like at the diner two nights ago, Sam was too distracted to watch him closely. Maybe Dean should have felt guilt even as he realized where his line of thinking was going, but that didn’t stop him from lifting the secret compartment underneath the trunk. All the weapons were there, pretty much as he’d left them, though he could see Dad had restocked them a little.

Dean pulled out a gun, checking the clip. Silver.

He slipped the gun into the back of his waistband and quickly shut the trunk before Sam wondered what he was doing. The heavy weight a surprising comfort as he walked inside. Setting down their food and his bag. There had been a time when he’d never gone anywhere without a gun, a few knives, and lock picks, hidden on him. But that wasn’t why it was comforting.

Dean ate on his bed. Not really tasting the food, in fact it tasted a bit like ash in his mouth but his body was demanding food so he ate. After all, it was easier to concentrate on his food then to concentrate on everything else.

He didn’t look up when his brother moved to his own bed, turning on the television. Once he finished his own burger and fries he got up and threw his trash away, then he went into the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, and even though he hadn’t really been thinking about it, locking it automatically.

Putting the lid down on the toilet he sat down. Taking the gun out and staring at it in his hands for a long time.

* * *

As soon as Dean left the room, Sam took a deep breath. It was almost a relief to have the room to himself. The silence was so unnatural, so fucking awkward. He was sure if they exchanged a few words here and there, if they acted like themselves… things would be better. But it took two… and one of them definitely had other ideas.

The t.v. droned on. He changed the channel, flipping quickly and flinching slightly when he went past a porn channel and saw two men. Granted there had been a woman too, but he only saw the guys, and then he only saw himself and Dean.

_Harder Dean._

Yeah, that had been an idiotic request, as his body was still telling him. But how had they gotten there… to that point? Just when the hell had he even thought of Dean in a way that he would want his kisses, want him to touch him. Tasting blood, he stopped biting his lip. And just where did Jess fit into all this. How come he hadn’t thought of her.

He had only questions… no answers… and no one to talk to. His gaze went to the bathroom door. When he realized how much time had passed, he got up and opened the window, sticking his head out to get fresh air. Maybe they should have gotten two rooms, then Dean wouldn’t be stuck in the bathroom.

Yeah, he got why it was hard to talk. But he didn’t get why he deserved the full silent treatment. That was a bit much when they were both hurting. The only thing he could think of was that Dean was blaming him, maybe hating him. Maybe he didn’t even get that it was the wolf thing… that it wasn’t his fault.

The clouds separated, and he saw the moon. It was growing… definitely getting fuller. Slamming them shut, he went back to his bed. A nice hot shower might be good. It could relax him. Taking the bottle of painkillers out of his bag, he popped two of them in his mouth.

* * *

He’d taken the clip out again. Just staring for a long time at the silver bullets shining dully in the bathroom light. They all had to be made by hand, of course. Just couldn’t walk into a gun shop and ask for silver bullets, unless you wanted to get the bat shit crazy look. He could remember the first time dad had taught him how to melt down the silver, pouring it into the little molds, making each individual bullet.

It was a bitch, and he remembered the nasty burn he’d gotten the first time he’d tried to do it without his Dad’s help. Of course it was a skill he’d picked up rather quickly. Never knew when you would need silver bullets, after all. Best to have a good supply, since they were good for killing a lot of shit.

Dean slapped the clip back into the gun. Idly clicking the safety on and off and startling when Sam started pounding on the door. His heart leapt into his throat but his brother was just demanding to use the shower. The elder man quickly clicked the safety back on and shoved the gun back down into his waistband. Hiding it.

He unlocked and opened the door, avoiding his brother’s eyes as they slid past each other awkwardly without touching. As soon as the bathroom door shut again, Dean started getting ready for bed. Stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers. Never mind that it was way too fucking early, he felt exhausted physically and mentally anyway.

Hiding the gun underneath the mattress Dean crawled under the covers he shut the light off. Putting his back to his brother’s bed as well as the bathroom door and closed his eyes. Trying to force himself asleep before Sam returned.

* * *

Sam took his time in the shower, letting the hot water pour over his head and face for a while until the force of the water helped drive all of his thoughts out of his mind. Turning around, he leaned his forehead on the cool tile and gave his tight back muscles up to the water, hoping between the heat and the meds, his pain would ease.

He’d thought he’d been in there maybe twenty minutes, but when he came out and looked at his watch, he saw it had been about an hour. Letting out a soft breath, he got into clean shorts and a tee shirt, but not before he noticed, even in the steamy mirror, the marks Dean had left on him.

Just like that, he remembered how it felt to be under his brother... to want him. To beg him. To fucking forget his girlfriend, his sanity, his decency... and to just beg.

Sam took a couple of deep breaths, wiping his face and hair with towel. One minute he thought he was handling, and the next...

If only Dean was talking to him, they could work through this... figure it out. Or bury it forever. His chest constricted suddenly, and he walked out, huffing angrily.

The first thing he looked for was Dean. Always the first and last, and look at him now... on his side, giving him his back. Sam thought he shouldn’t be surprised at all. For one awful moment, he thought about hitting Dean. Just dragging his awake ass out of that bed and having it out.

Instead, he padded to his bed, sat slowly down and played some more with the remote control. Every once in a while, he’d want to say something... words would bubble up his chest, but there was Dean, so fucking forbidding. It took a while, but Sam finally realized not all the sound from the television would take the place of real conversation. Shutting the t.v., he lay back with his hands under his head , forcing his eyes shut.

He could hear his own breaths, and he could hear Dean’s. Turning his head, he glanced over at the dark lump on the other bed. Could he feel it? Couldn’t Dean feel how much he was hurting inside?

You’re not a kid anymore. You told him... them, both of them you don’t want to be treated like a kid.

Right. Right, he’d said that. He’d meant it.

Then.

A lump rose in his throat, and he tried to ignore it and the loneliness eating at him. A tear escaped down his cheek, and he furiously wiped it away. All he wanted was a few words. Or a hug or... yeah... he remembered how well he’d slept once Dean’s arms were around him last night.

“Dean.” He looked toward Dean’s form. “Can I come by you?”

The words hung between them for so long, one of them had to break.

It was Sam. He got up suddenly, dragged his jeans on and walked out of the room, taking his boots but leaving his jacket and even his gun behind. He couldn’t stand it, not one moment longer. Not a second more. The door slammed so hard behind him, he heard curses coming out of the room next door. Yeah... exactly how he felt.

* * *

He should have been asleep long before now.

Despite the god awful early hour, it wasn’t even 10pm yet, but he felt exhausted enough that he should have been able to fall asleep long before his brother finally came out of the bathroom. Almost an hour after he’d gone in.

Dean didn’t move. Didn’t alter his breathing. Trying not to give the younger man any clue that he was awake. In the end he should have known he could never fool Sam.

His brother’s question made him tense involuntarily. Made it hard for him to breathe. Sam’s voice so soft. Hesitant. Unsure. Sounding too much like the young boy right then that his brother no longer was. Though Dean couldn’t really remember any time that Sammy had sounded so unsure of himself when he’d asked him similar when they’d been children. When their Dad could occasionally afford to rent them a house where they had their own rooms. When Sammy would come to his bed in the middle of the night, just because they both slept better together than apart.

Everything was different now. They weren’t kids anymore, for one, and even though his brother was practically begging for comfort now… and god how he wanted to be able to give it… he knew he couldn’t. Especially when just the thought of holding Sam close made his body react in away far from brotherly. Their bodies pressed up against one another, the younger man’s warmth soaking into him. Touching him… tasting his flesh again…

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter. His hands clenching, his nails biting so deeply into the flesh of his palms he wouldn’t be surprised if he were drawing blood. But even the pain, and the shame he felt, wasn’t making the images go away.

But then it didn’t matter anymore because Sam was… leaving. At first he was too stunned to react, and by the time he did, sitting up, about to say his brother’s name, he was already gone. The slamming of the door echoing through him long after the actual sound was gone.

_Go after him. Do something._ A voice insisted weakly inside of him, but it was crushed quickly by reality. He’d hurt his brother in a way he could never take back. Never make up for. Never undo. He couldn’t control himself. He was a fucking animal. Just like them. He was only going to keep hurting his brother. There was no way to protect his brother from what he was… what he was becoming…

Dean sat there on the edge of the bed in the dark and buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Sammy…”

* * *

He didn’t know how far he’d walked, but it was far enough to find himself in a residential neighborhood where some of the residents were having a block party. Leaning against a tree, he’d watched as the party wound down. Laughter and drunken arguments reached his ears. Sounds… people talking, it was what he craved, and what he’d found.

Someone came over and invited him to have a drink or a burger. He didn’t know any of them. They shouldn’t give a damn about him. And yet, they were talking to him, looking him in the eye like he was there… not like they could stare right through him. He’d wondered if he’d gone invisible, if he’d disappeared.

“Thanks, I will,” he smiled, and got himself a beer. Everyone was in long sleeves and jackets. There were several comments about him thinking he was a ‘he man’ in his tee. Truth was, he was freezing, and that was part of the reason he’d accepted the beer.

*

A couple of hours later, he found himself back at the twenty four hour diner next to the motel. Nothing else was open this late anyways. Rubbing his arms, he sat at a booth and ordered a coffee and French fries.

He was intently listening to the conversation at a nearby table, laughing at all the right time, even nodding. His gaze connected with an old man at the table, and he knew he’d been found out, but instead of a glare, he was on the receiving end of a nod and a smile. Smiles were underrated, they really, really were.

* * *

After two hours Dean realized that Sam wasn't coming back.

He'd worried. He'd paced. He'd considered going after his brother countless times, but guilt always stopped him in the end. Feeling helpless knowing there was nothing he could do for Sam. He was the fucking problem, after all.

His brother was better off as far away from him as he could get.

Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed again. His brother's this time. Staring at the gun in his hand he'd 'stolen' earlier from the trunk of the Impala.

Too late. Too damn late. Sam should have just let him go off that damn bridge. Maybe it would have been hard for his brother to deal with, but at least it would have been before he could rape his baby brother…

Dean chuckled bitterly to himself. Clicking off the safety of the gun. He certainly didn't deserve to die this quickly or easily after what he'd done. But it was really the only way to be certain. Silver.

He'd promised his brother he wouldn't do this. That he wouldn't try again, but… everything was different now. He had proof now, didn't he? Proof he couldn't control himself. Proof he was dangerous. The worst of it was… he still wanted him. Sam. Like an itch underneath his skin, he wanted to touch him again. Taste him again. Fuck him… if he had a chance to go back, he didn't know if he would have, could have, stopped himself. If he had a chance again…

Dean closed his eyes as he pressed the barrel of the gun between his lips.

He wouldn't give himself another chance to hurt his brother.

* * *

Sam approached the room almost soundlessly. The sharp protests of the neighbors were still fresh in his mind as he quietly unlocked and opened the door. His gaze went to the light that was on above Dean’s bed, lowered to see the bed was empty, and shifted to find his brother sitting on the edge of his bed. All of that, and the realization that Dean had the barrel of a gun in his mouth happened almost at once

Three seconds were a lifetime.

Three seconds to cross the room and stop him. Or three seconds to lose and find his brothers brains all over the white sheets.

Fuck three seconds, fuck his pain he felt in every part of his body, and fuck the fact his heart was wrenched out of place.

He lunged and in less than _two_ seconds, he had one arm around Dean, and a hand on the gun. “Dean, no!” he shouted as they rolled off the bed and onto the hard floor, locked in a struggle for the gun. “No,” he repeated, shouting until he was hoarse. But no one was listening. Not Dean, who hadn’t heard him since last night. Not dad, who wasn’t there. And not God or any other supposedly all powerful entity out there... no one. It was up to him.

Dean’s curses didn’t faze him, but his brother meant business and wasn’t pulling any punches. Nor was Sam. He used everything he had, his elbows, his forehead, his legs... trying to make Dean let go of the gun as they rolled back and forth over the ground.

“No, you promised... fuckin—“ Seeing the wild look in Dean’s eyes, being subjected to the increasingly aggressive moves his brother was making, not caring now if he injured Sam, Sam started to panic. They might have been more evenly matched before, but now... Dean was a heck of a lot stronger, and like a predator, he took every opportunity and would show no mercy.

“No... no, dammit it.” Sam kept his hand clamped around the gun, biting his lower lip as Dean started to crush his hand against the metal. He’d have to break it... because there was no other way he was losing Dean, no matter what happened between them, no way.

* * *

He should have at least heard Sam come inside. Should have. Maybe he would have if his heart hadn’t been pounding so damn hard. If the taste of gun oil hadn’t been so strong in his mouth as he started to depress the trigger. If he’d thought for one second that Sam was actually going to come back and find him rather than the cleaning staff in the morning.

Instead his brother had managed to take him completely by surprise. Ripping the gun out of his mouth so fast it was a wonder he didn’t knock loose a tooth or two at the same time. The instinct to struggle was just that. Pure instinct.

Dean wasn’t thinking as he tried to twist himself out of his brother’s grip. Trying to get his brother to let go of the weapon they were fighting over so he could finish what he needed to do god damn it! Why couldn’t Sam see that?

“Let go of me! Damn it! Let go!” He growled viciously. The double meaning of his words not lost on him even in the state he was now.

What started as a twisted parody of one of their countless wrestling matches growing up quickly developed into an all out fight. Both of them shouting and throwing punches. Kicks. Hitting. Probably would have been biting if Dean wasn’t so damn afraid of infecting his brother though that didn’t stop him from growling and cursing the younger man as they struggled.

Ending up on the floor. Both of them getting increasingly more violent. Dean tasted blood on his lips when a lucky hit of Sam’s elbow reopened the scabbed over bite he’d done to himself last night. He wouldn’t be surprised if his brother ended up with a black eye or worse from a punch he landed to the younger man’s right cheek. He was trying not to hurt Sam. He really was… but he could feel himself losing control. Just like before. The wild animal inside of him growing impatient and lashing out unthinkingly.

With a vicious sound Dean twisted them around and finally pinned his brother underneath his weight. Holding him down with his legs, one hand wrapped bruising tight around Sam’s wrist, the other still around the gun they were still fighting for. Even as Dean’s angry eyes locked with his brother’s. Panting heavily. His blood dripping down onto his brother’s face. He wasn’t surprised that he was hard. Ashamed. But not surprised.

“Damn it, Sam! I have to do this. Can’t you see that!” Dean was surprised he could even think clearly right now much less speak. But somehow he managed it. “I’m not going to hurt you again! I’m not going to rape you like…” _Like I did last night. Like I’m thinking about right now…_  


* * *

All of the air was slammed out of Sam as he landed heavily on his back with Dean pinning him down and now doing serious damage to his wrist. Still, as his eyes clung to brother’s, he wouldn’t give in, not to the heated anger that leaped from Dean’s eyes and not to his conviction that ‘dead was better than this.’

“No, I can’t see that,” he answered, moving his face as another drop of blood landed near his mouth. “Don’t leave me Dean, you promised.” He didn’t bother covering his anguish, and then he felt his fingers start to slip off the gun. No.

Hardly thinking, or maybe he was craftier than even he realized... or maybe it was just desperation, but he lifted up suddenly, melding his mouth messily to his brother’s. Only as he started to kiss him, only as one of his own legs wrapped around Dean’s to pin him just as surely as Dean was holding him in place, did the rest of Dean’s words register.

_Rape you._. What the hell? The idiot... Sam shoved his tongue inside Dean’s mouth, tasting blood, tasting regret. As he lifted his hips in an effort to get closer, to prove to himself they were both still alive, they could feel, acknowledge each other, the pressure on his wrist loosened.

Just like that, heat blazed between them. Dean might have tried to pull away, to resist, but Sam wouldn’t let him, not until he ran out of breath. When their mouths parted, he was breathing hard and sharply aware of Dean, of the hard planes of his body pressing down on him, making him hurt and ache in ways he shouldn’t... in ways his body probably couldn’t take right now. “Is this me raping you, Dean? Cause if it is, you’ll have to take me out too.”

His nostrils flared, knowing what a stubborn idiot his brother could be. “It’s fucked up. It’s wrong. But it’s not rape Dean. If it had been... I might not have stopped you.”

* * *

  
_Don’t leave me Dean, you promised._

Dean closed his eyes. He had to. Because he simply couldn’t look into his brother’s eyes anymore. Shaking his head. Trying to deny Sam’s words. Deny how much fear, desperation, and pain was in the younger man’s voice. A part of him wanting to give in, so badly. Like he’d done before. Like he’d always done. Because when had he ever been able to truly deny his brother anything? Especially when his refusal hurt Sam so much…

No. Not this time. He couldn’t. He refused to go on hurting his brother. It was only going to get worse. _He_ was only going to get worse. Until he couldn’t control himself at all anymore. Until… No. He wouldn’t let it happen.

The elder man’s eyes snapped open suddenly in shock when he felt his brother’s lips crush against his own. Hot and wet and far from gentle, his body responded instantly even as his mind tried to deny. Even as he tried to pull back. To stop Sam. What the hell was he doing! No, no he couldn’t do this. Please, Sam, no…

But his body was not listening to his frantic please, nor was his brother who was clinging to him so desperately, and as Sam shoved his tongue into his mouth, lifting and rubbing his hips against his suddenly painful erection, even his mental struggles began to die away. Groaning in desire and defeat into the younger man’s mouth as he pressed himself harder against his brother’s hip even as his fingers loosened a little around both Sam’s wrist and the gun. The fight bleeding out of him like from an open wound and a different kind of desperation filling its place.

They parted for air, and he gasped raggedly against his brother’s mouth. His eyes open, a wild hungry look in his eyes mingled with sorrow. His brother’s eyes the only thing that filled his vision.

_Is this me raping you, Dean? Cause if it is, you’ll have to take me out too._ The younger man’s words, soft though they were, hit him like a slap, making him wince. No, this wasn’t Sam’s fault. He couldn’t let him do this. He had to stop it. He _had_ to god damn it!

_It’s fucked up. It’s wrong. But it’s not rape Dean. If it had been... I might not have stopped you._ As his brother continued, the elder man froze completely. His eyes growing so wide it was probably comical. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He knew Sam was likely to say anything, _anything_ right now to stop him from doing what he had to, but…

“So what… now you’re trying to tell me you _wanted_ me to fuck you? You like me making you my little bitch?” Dean all but growled. Anger at himself, frustration, guilt, shame, and fear all making his voice harder than he would have wished. But there was a definite challenge in his eyes now. Daring his brother to take back what he’d just ‘admitted’.

The elder man leaned in closer. Their faces a hair’s breadth apart.

“Prove it then.”

* * *

This was different from all the times he’d been called bitch and Sam’s anger erupted in a slap to the side of Dean’s face. “Don’t call me that.” His brother’s face immediately snapped back, almost as if he hadn’t felt it.

Sam’s chest heaved as he tried to breathe with Dean still right on top of him, still close, his question… _his demand_ , still hanging between them. He struggled to bring his thoughts into some sort of order. Had he wanted that kiss to end? No, it could have gone on forever, and he wouldn’t have complained. Was he burning up with need, even knowing it was wrong, knowing there was no way on hell anyone… any normal person could know this… what was between them… and not be disgusted? Yes Godamnit, yes, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it, about how he liked seeing the wild look enter Dean’s eyes and know it was for him, or how he liked pushing Dean to the edge, watching his brother struggle against primitive instincts, knowing despite how hard it was for him, he’d keep that last shred of control, he wouldn’t cross the line even if he thought in his idiotic mind that he had.

“Alright,” he licked his lips and releasing the gun, gripped Dean’s arms, swallowing hard as powerful muscles moved under his palms, reminding him of his brother’s strength, how he could hold him down, how he could fuck him senseless… had fucked him senseless. “I did ask you to fuck me… I wanted it. You had me up against the door, and all I could think about was I wanted more. You had your tongue down my throat, and it wasn’t enough. You ripped my clothes of Dean, and it … it wasn’t close enough.” He arched, deliberately dragging his body along Dean’s rock hard erection. “I wanted _that_ , and you gave it to me.”

His heart started to slam against his chest as the need to be claimed… branded all over again, flooded through him. “You want me to prove it, I will. I’ll jerk you off again, like I did when you were drunk and asleep. I’ll take your dick in my mouth and suck you off, like you did to me… I ‘ll let you fuck my mouth as hard as you want.” His brother’s eyes grew darker, hungrier, and it sent excitement surging through Sam. “You can’t fuck me, not now, not when I still feel everywhere you’ve been, but anything else you want… you got it.” His voice lowered an octave, “I know how to say ‘no’ and mean it, and you… I don’t care if you’re scared of crossing the line. You stay behind the line, like you did last night when I told you not to bite and you fucking wanted to.”

He was breathing hard, and starting to push up against Dean, asking him to lose control again. “Just one thing. If you hate me after. If you refuse to look at me again, so help me Dean…” and he started to roll Dean over, reaching for his mouth with his own.

* * *

The slap to his face shouldn’t have surprised him one damn bit, especially given what he’d said. Though it did, but not in the normal sense.

It made him realize just exactly _what_ he’d said. He’d never spoken like that to his brother before, at least not so hatefully mocking, and the guilt that followed hit him much harder. Shocking him out of his blind anger. Cutting off the threatening snarl that had nearly escaped from his lips at being struck.

He knew he’d deserved that, and a hell of a lot more, yet the furious look in his eyes faded only a little when they locked quickly back to his brother’s. Furious even though he knew wasn’t angry at Sam. Not really. Though it was easier to feel anger right now than anything else, given his state of confusion. How in chaos all his emotions were. So that, like everything else, was directed at his brother.

His every sense hyper focused on the younger man beneath him. His pupils blown wide, lust, fear, anger, and shame all warring for control. The feel of Sam’s body underneath him, his heat, his chest heaving against him was distracting, throwing him even more off center, leaving him completely unbalanced. The taste of his brother’s breath on his lips making him long to crush their mouths together again, even as a part of him recoiled at the thought. His smell… oh god his smell… like a fucking aphrodisiac, like a drug, like he was addicted and he couldn’t pull away even though a part of him screamed to.

_Don’t do this to him again. Don’t. Please…_

Dean tried to close his eyes but he couldn’t. Flicking down to where his brother licked his lips, feeling even more heat flood through him if it were possible. Sam gripped his arms, and he knew he could have broken that hold easily if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He felt paralyzed. Even his breath stilled as Sam spoke. Telling him how he’d wanted it…

No… no he hadn’t given Sam any choice. Sam had only said those things… done those things… because he hadn’t given him any other option. Better to just let it happen then…

The elder man’s breath left him in a rush when his brother suddenly arched up against him. Dragging their bodies together. Rubbing against his rock hard cock and letting him feel his arousal in return. Dean closed his eyes, bit his already bloody lip but was unable to stifle the groan of need that was ripped from him.

His eyes snapping back open quickly, dark and hungry and wild listening how his brother offered to ‘prove’ it to him. Just like he’d demanded. Just thinking of Sam’s large hand wrapped tightly around his cock, those fucking sinful lips sucking him off, nearly driving him insane. As though he wasn’t already. Offering him anything else he wanted. Anything he wanted…

Sam pushing against him, trying to roll them over both broke his paralysis and whatever resistance he had left. His fingers wrapping around both his brother’s wrists, the gun momentarily forgotten laying beside them, as he pushed them back down against the carpet, pinning Sam down. His body blanketing the younger man’s as his lips claimed his brother’s hungrily. His tongue claiming every inch of that hot wet mouth as though he could suck his brother’s soul into him through that one contact. Practically dry humping the younger man as he ground their hips together so hard it almost hurt.

“Never hated you, Sammy… I thought… damn it, I’m sorry… ” Dean whispered, panting roughly against his brother’s mouth when they pulled apart, licking his kiss swollen lips tenderly. He didn’t really expect the younger man’s forgiveness right now to the apology, though he hoped he could at least start making it up to his brother right now.

His hands released his brother’s wrists to slide down the length of his entire body possessively. Nibbling lightly on the younger man’s lower lip as he gently palmed Sam’s ass through his jeans. What did he want? Well, he knew what he _really_ wanted, but he couldn’t have that right now. He wouldn’t hurt his brother like that. But…

“I want your lips around my cock, while I suck you off too, little brother…” He whispered hotly into the younger man’s ear.

* * *

Sam knew the exact moment Dean broke. He was pushed forcefully back down, his wrists trapped in Dean’s iron grip, and then he was being devoured by long scorching kisses. Dean was everywhere at once, in his mouth, covering every inch of him, stamping the imprint of his body on him with every powerful thrust of his body, pressing him down into the unforgiving floor. Instead of scaring Sam, it just had him clamoring for more. His brother’s needs were his, his brother’s wants were his... together, they could burn so fucking hot, nothing else mattered.

He wanted to touch Dean so bad, so bad it was frustrating, but he touched him with the parts of his body that were free. His mouth, his legs, his hips... lifting them to grind against Dean. Oh God, how could anything feel this good, and be so wrong?

When Dean pulled his mouth away, he whimpered in protest, the listened intently as Dean said he didn’t hate him. _Now, yeah... but later, after?_ One flick of Dean’s tongue over his aching lips and his questions scattered to the winds.

Abruptly, his wrists were freed and a distinctly predatory look crossed Dean’s features. For a heartbeat, Sam held his breath, then Dean’s hands were consuming every part of him, lifting him up, owning him, and it was so damned right. He could feel Dean’s arousal pressing insistently into him, pulsing... see the naked lust reflected in his eyes, and holy... the ache, he could feel the ache in his brother’s voice.

Moaning out his name, he wrapped his arms around Dean, stroking his back, pulling him close. Even if he hadn’t been on sensory overload, those words... so filthy when coupled with _little brother_... could easily have taken Sam over the edge right there.

Burying his face in Dean’s throat, he whispered back. “Sounds so fucking dirty,” he swallowed out loud, licked Dean’s pulse point and softly sucked on it, tasting salt and his brother. “Tell me what you really want to do, but won’t...” He knew he was playing with fire, that he was pushing Dean, but he couldn’t stop himself, he needed to claim Dean in his own way. Dragging one hand over Dean’s ass, down it’s cleft and then grinding his palm against his sack, he made his demand again. “Tell me how you want to fuck me.”

* * *

  
_Tell me how you want to fuck me._

Jesus Christ. He wondered if Sam had any idea what he was doing to him? How close to the edge he was right now? If he knew just how close he was to… to ripping his brother’s cloths off of him, flipping him over and burying his cock deep as deep into the younger man’s body as he could…

No.

Dean’s fingers dug into his brother’s flesh as he bit his bloody and bruised lip hard. Stifling an obscene groan as his brother licked and suckled at his neck. Those filthy things whispered into his ear should have shocked the hell out of him. Hearing them from _Sam’s_ lips. He should be saying ‘Christo’ to make sure his brother wasn’t fucking possessed or something.

Instead of making his blood boil with lust. Making it impossible for him to think. Because he simply didn’t have enough blood left for his brain because it all rushed straight to his cock at Sam’s words. And he ground his erection hard against the younger man, moaning almost like he was in pain, trying to ease some of the ache.

“I want to strip you naked right here on the damn floor. Turn you over and lick you open, like I did last night. Just to see if you still taste like me…” He whispered, his voice little more than a low purr against his brother’s neck as he kissed and licked Sam’s throat. Giving his brother exactly what he wanted, despite the almost torture it was. To say what he wanted to do, knowing he couldn’t…

“Once you’re wet and begging for me, I’ll slide my cock into you slowly. So you feel every inch of me filling you up. When I’m balls deep in you, baby brother, I’m gonna fuck you slow, so slow it’ll be torture for both of us. Until you can’t stand it anymore and start trying to fuck yourself on my cock, and I’m gonna let you ride me, just like that, till you come your brains out. I’ll fill you up so much then my come will leak out of your sweet little ass around my dick…” Dean groaned in frustration as he rocked his hips slowly against the younger man.

* * *

The sound Dean made as he thrust hard against him was filled with such raw need, it made Sam tremble. For an instant, he thought his brother was going to deny him. Then Dean was whispering the things he wanted to do to him in such fucking graphic terms, Sam could barely manage the force of his body’s intense reaction. Just knowing Dean was on edge, that each word he whispered tortured him… that he was doing this and holding back just for him… it was intoxicating. Cupping Dean’s ass in desperation, he lifted his hips, again and again, growing wilder as each word left Dean’s mouth, getting just a little more insane, listening… drinking in each word and giving a broken “yes” each time Dean paused.

“Oh God… Dean.” His mind was so clouded with desire, Sam was ready to tell Dean to go ahead… to fuck him again, that he could take it. He tried to make Dean rock faster against him, tried to tell him he needed him right now, skin to skin, when he heard the lock move in the door. “Dean!”

Sam reached for the gun a fraction of a second after Dean, his hand coming over Dean’s just as the door pushed open. His heart leaped to his throat, and this time it had nothing to do with Dean.

* * *

It was too much. Too fucking much. They were both out of control. The way his brother rocked against him, lifted his hips against his every thrust, clutched him tighter, made him so hot. Taking everything he gave and asking him for more. Made him insane. The more wild and uncontrolled Sam became, the more he felt his control slipping away. His brother’s passion feeding into his lust, making him burn hotter, and then giving it back into his brother.

They were playing with fire and both of them were going to get burned, it was just a matter of time to see which one of them would burn first. He was deathly afraid it would be Sam who was hurt again, and yet he couldn’t stop…

He was so far gone he heard the door unlocking only a second before Sam, but his reflexes weren’t dulled in the slightest by his desire. His instinct to protect his brother, before anything else, stronger than anything. His hand closing around the gun with a vicious growl as the door swung open, and if it weren’t for Sam trying to grab the weapon at the same time, Dean might have already been shooting the intruder.

That second of hesitation when his and Sam’s hand both struggled for the weapon to use against their unknown attacker probably saved his father’s life. A second later, as John’s eyes met his, Dean froze completely. He could only imagine what this looked like to their dad. There were only two choices really. Bad, or really fucking bad.

Whatever John Winchester had been expecting to find when he entered his son’s motel room, nothing could have really prepared him for what he saw. He’d expected to find his boys either asleep, or maybe watching some late night television. Not lying on the floor between the beds. Dean on top of Sam. Both of their faces flushed, bruised, and bloody. Grappling over a weapon he had no doubt was loaded.

The older man’s eyes locked with this elder son’s as both men froze motionless where they were, and for a few heartbeats it was so silent in the room a pin drop could be heard. Then John was rushing inside, not waiting for an explanation, as Dean still seemed stunned by the turn of events and the older man wasn’t going to wait for him to regain his senses. He didn’t know what was going on, but he had an idea. It was a fear that both he and Sam shared. That Dean might try something like this, and the mental image of his elder son’s head blown open by a silver bullet was all John could think about as he kicked the gun away from both his boys and yanked Dean off of his brother with a surprising amount of strength.

A second later the elder man had his son slammed up against the wall, shaking him like he was trying to rattle his head off of his neck, and shouting in his face.

“What the hell are you doing!” Loud enough that complaints from the neighbors next door could be heard through the walls, but he hardly cared, his voice both furious and pained. Dean still too stunned to protest the rough treatment. His mouth opening and closing but no words coming out.

* * *

The sight of his father froze Sam’s brain. He couldn’t think... he couldn’t formulate a lie to save his life, if he had to. He didn’t even feel the gun get kicked out of their hands. But he did feel Dean’s warm body get ripped away from him.

_Dad.._ His chest still heaving, Sam sat up on the ground. He’d have thought his father’s presence would be like a bucket of ice water pouring over his head. Well it was, but it hadn’t reached the parts of his body still screaming for release. His skin was scraped raw in some places from his clothes rubbing too hard against him, but it only made him more sensitive... more aware of what had just been taken away.

He licked his lips, trying to will his aching erection away as he looked at his brother getting manhandled and yelled at. There wasn’t a thing he could do or say, not really. It was better for dad to think they were still arguing about the gun than to let him get wind of the fact Dean had backed down from using it. Meeting his brother’s gaze for a moment, he wondered whether he was sick... sick for wanting to see the heat in Dean’s eyes again, sick for still imagining his hot breath in his ear whispering those dirty things to him, sick for wanting to push his father out of the room to make Dean pick up where they’d stopped.

Was this one of those ‘saved by the bell’ moments, or divine intervention... or was someone or something reminding them how wrong... how fucked up what they were about to do was? If his dad ever found out...

Swamped by shame, and still hot... hot for his own fucking brother, Sam got up and slipped into the bathroom while the shouting continued. Looking at his face in the mirror, he wondered how his dad couldn’t tell... he looked guilty, Dean looked guilty... shouldn’t everyone be able to tell?

He washed his face with cold water, getting rid of the blood from Dean’s lip. Then wiped his face and started to see that his jeans were no longer so tight that it was uncomfortable. Finally, he pushed the door open and joined the other two men.

He put his hand on his dad’s shoulder. “Why don’t we all get a cup of coffee, and then Dean will give his word he’s never trying this again.” The steely edge to his words were meant for his brother. He had no right to put him through this again and again, and if their dad hadn’t been there, he would eventually have had it out with Dean anyway... probably several hours from now.

* * *

His father yelling and manhandling him, the pain, fear, and disappointment in the elder man’s eyes, was a hell of an anti-aphrodisiac. Dean wouldn’t have been surprised if John actually hit him, their dad looked so angry. He almost wished the older man would. Though guilt and shame was hitting the younger man far harder. Not only for what he would have done if Sam hadn’t stopped him in time… again… but for what he and Sam had been actually doing before their father stopped them.

Dean’s eyes met his brother’s briefly before Sam made his ‘escape’ and he had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, or feeling, right now. It was hard to believe that moment ago they’d been kissing so desperately. Humping against each other like teenagers in heat. Saying things that brothers should never say to each other. Wanting… what brother’s should never want…

How could Sam have wanted it too? It was so wrong. So fucked up. At least Dean had a ‘reason’ to be as fucked up as he was. But Sammy… Sam had wanted it too… what did that mean?

“Do you hear me!” Dean had actually almost forgotten that John was still yelling at him, until the older man shook him so hard his head smacked against the wall. Shocking him back to his senses but not erasing any of his confusion, unfortunately. It was probably that confusion more than anything that kept him from protesting the treatment. Kept him from fighting back. Especially when he knew he deserved it.

It wasn’t like he could explain himself either, even if he wanted to.

“I’m sorry, Dad…” He whispered, his voice shaking and he felt tears forming in his eyes as his father’s expression abruptly changed. Some of the anger draining away, more pain and disappointment replacing it, and that was almost worse.

Then Sam was there, and his brother’s hard words, especially after… everything… was like a slap and Dean actually flinched physically. Blinking back the tears in his eyes that were threatening to fall. He wasn’t going to cry in front of his father, damn it. He dropped his head and closed his eyes, unable to look at either man.

John looked at his younger son, then back to Dean. The elder man took a deep breath and forced himself to release his elder son. Taking a step back and watching as Dean slumped against the wall like it was the only thing supporting him right now and maybe it was. Dean looked defeated, and that fucking scared the hell out of him more than anything. He was torn between wanting to shake that look out of Dean, to knock some sense into him, and hug him like the child he no longer was.

In the end he didn’t do any of those things.

“I’m going to get my things out of the truck.” John said tightly, giving Sam a look that said they would talk when he got back. After he cooled off a bit. He needed to know just what the hell had been going on since he left. The little bits Sam had told him over the phone hadn’t really told him much. Other than the shit had pretty much hit the fan. An understatement by the looks of what he’d walked in on tonight. His sons had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

As soon as their dad walked out, Sam released his breath. “You alright, Dean?” He glanced at the door and then at his brother, cocking his head. “That was close... I...” he swallowed, not really knowing what to say. “You got the brunt of it but nothing I could really do, you know?”

“Dean?” He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, then he realized Dean wasn’t looking at him... was avoiding him. It was yesterday all over again, and it ripped a big hole in Sam’s gut. “This again?” He shoved him, making Dean jerk his head up at least for a second. “After...?” he looked at the ground where they’d been about to fuck like they were in heat. “Sure you don’t hate me...” he whispered, and walked away.

He felt the tears sting his eyes, but he fought them. Sitting on the bed with his back toward Dean, he hoped their dad would get back soon... or he just might contemplate using that gun on himself.

* * *

Was he alright?

Was Sam serious? Dean almost wanted to laugh. A harsh sound even escaped his lips before he silenced it abruptly. He didn’t know whether he felt like laughing, cursing, or crying. Though he knew if he did any of those, there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to stop once he started.

Fuck. Maybe that meant he was going insane. Maybe he already was… Maybe? Yeah, and wanting to fuck his baby brother was just a normal healthy impulse. Dean flinched when his brother touched him. Fighting the urge to pull Sam back against him. Hug his brother to him tightly. To take more than just comfort from the younger man…

Instead Dean’s hands curled into fists at his side. Biting back a groan of frustration. He didn’t know what to think, what to feel anymore. What was right or wrong? Everything… _everything_ was so fucked up.

His brother’s hard shove made him look up in surprise, even though a part of him wasn’t really. He wondered if he could really be surprised by anything anymore. He wished that meant he couldn’t be hurt anymore either… but he knew that was just wishful thinking. Especially when Sam’s words cut him to the core, and again, somehow, he felt like laughing.

Sam could be such a fucking idiot sometimes.

“No, I don’t hate _you_ , Sam. God damn it…” He finally managed to choke out bitterly. Feeling too fucking drained and sick to even keep standing, Dean slid down the wall to sit on the floor. “I’m so fucked up… this is so fucked up…”

* * *

Sam rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and shook his head from side to side. “You don’t think I get that? At least you have an excuse...” He sniffed, this time wiping at his nose. “I don’t know what’s happening either. It’s...hell. See there’s only one person I can maybe talk to about this, try to figure it out... but _he_ won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me, unless we’re... doing it,” he choked on the words, but they were true. “And I just... now isn’t the time to be all alone. It just isn’t.”

* * *

Excuse…

Another harsh, choked sound, broke free from his lips before he could stop it. Before he bit his already abused lip again before the sob that was building up inside of him could slip out.

Yeah, he had an 'excuse'. He was a fucking monster. A fucking animal. He was just like _them_. He was becoming more like them every single day. How long before he couldn't resist it at all anymore? How long before he was nothing but a bloodthirsty killer, even when he wasn't changed. What more did he have to do? How much more did he have to hurt Sam?

Cassandra was right…

It was ironic, in a really sick twisted way, that the only time he felt he might have a chance to resist these urges… That maybe Sam was right. That maybe it could be all right, and his only way out of this wasn't with the barrel of a gun shoved between his teeth… Was when they were 'doing it', as Sam put it.

Yeah, that just proved how fucked up he really was… That the only time he felt… human, or even a little bit like himself… was when he was fucking his baby brother. So he had to fuck Sam up just so he felt less fucked up himself?

"I never wanted to hurt you… and now that's all I'm doing..." Dean managed in a choked whisper, squeezing his eyes shut tighter but he couldn't stop the tears that leaked free.

* * *

The long silence was ripping Sam apart. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t re-do yesterday, he just couldn’t. Maybe if he left, it would be better. Right... like he could leave Dean like this. Like leaving him behind and going off to college hadn’t been bad enough.

Then his brother spoke, and Sam held his breath and listened to the soft, emotion-laden words. He swallowed over the hard knot in his throat. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re hurting me now... not then.”

Licking his lips, he turned around, his eyes widening when he saw Dean on the ground, crying. “Dean!” Three strides had him across the room and down at his brother’s level. He had the tendency to think of Dean as unbreakable, the stronger one, and it always surprised the hell out of him when he caught him in moments like this. Without thinking, he cupped Dean’s face and stroked his thumbs over his tears, wiping them away. “I’m sorry for...everything. You want this to stop, we stop. If you don’t want it to, then we...” he glanced at the door. “Whatever you want Dean. Just don’t give up, don’t leave.” His own eyes were tearing now. “You don’t have to talk to me, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll man up, okay... whatever you want.”

He was lost again. Dean had always been his light house, and every time that light went out...

* * *

  
_You’re hurting me now, not then._ What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Nothing apparently. Because suddenly Sam was kneeling there right in front of him. Caressing his face, wiping away his tears, apologizing to him… and it was so wrong. All so wrong.

“Sammy don’t, please… don’t apologize…” He whispered, looking up into the younger man’s eyes that were as wet as his own. His brother had nothing to apologize to him for. Absolutely nothing. Sam hadn’t done anything wrong. Except maybe in trusting him.

If he wanted this to stop… didn’t it just prove how messed up he was how his heart clenched painfully at the thought of them stopping. Did he want it to continue? He didn’t have an answer. The fact that Sam was even asking him one or the other proved just how messed up they both were.

Whatever he wanted…

No. He couldn’t let Sam do this. Couldn’t let his brother offer him this. His eyes silently begged for the younger man to take it back, because he wasn’t strong enough to resist. Couldn’t stop himself from touching him, cupping the younger man’s cheek, mirroring Sam’s touch, caressing his brother’s face. Drawing Sam closer to him. Close enough their breaths mingled once more.

“Promise me… you’ll stop me if it goes too far. Promise me you won’t let me hurt you.” He choked out around a sob. Pressing his forehead against his brother’s. His fingers sliding back into the younger man’s hair.

“I’m so fucking scared, Sammy… of everything. Of what I’m becoming… of needing you so damn much…”

* * *

He was so afraid he’d lost Dean, so deathly afraid, and it wasn’t until he was pressing his cheek into Dean’s palm that he had a spark of hope. He didn’t know what Dean’s decision would be, and either alternative scared him. There just wasn’t a good one, not really. Both would hurt them and maybe other people too.

Then they were forehead to forehead, and Sam wanted to be closer. His throat closed up tighter as Dean told him his fears... and chose. “You won’t hurt me, Dean. Don’t you know that?” He wanted to kiss him so bad, wanted the oblivion they could give each other, but he knew it was too dangerous. Their dad could walk in any minute.

Swallowing he hugged Dean close, putting his head on his shoulder, burying his face in his throat. “I’m not afraid of you, just for you. I think... I think I know what is happening to you. You’ve chosen a mate, Dean. Just like... _she_ chose you. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, you know that.” Dean would probably immediately argue that Cassandra had herself hurt him. “She was rough on you but it was part of the chase, part of turning you into a wolf. There wasn’t anything between you two before, but you and I, we’re family. It’s not the same. If you said ‘yes’ to her, she’d probably cut off her right arm before hurting you again, ever.”

* * *

No. No he didn’t know that. That was what he was so damn afraid of.

But then Sam was hugging him tightly, pressing his face into his neck, and it was difficult for him to think about anything other than his brother’s warmth. The feel of the younger man’s warm breath against his skin. His arms wrapping around his brother’s body almost of their own will and holding Sam even tighter to him.

_You should be…_ Dean couldn’t help but think when Sam said he wasn’t afraid of him. But when his brother ‘explained’ what he thought was ‘wrong’ with him he almost wanted to laugh. Deny it. Except he couldn’t. Because he knew it would be a lie even before he spoke.

Though when Sam mentioned how ‘she’ had ‘chosen’ him Dean couldn’t help but tense in his brother’s arms. Maybe his brother was right. He didn’t know. But he knew he didn’t want to fucking think about _her_. Not now. Not ever again, if he could help it.

“I’m so sorry, Sam…” He whispered, even as he threaded his fingers through his brother’s hair. Turning his head to brush his lips tenderly over the younger man’s. A part of him still praying that his brother would not say ‘yes’ to him. The other deathly afraid what he might do if Sam said ‘no’… If he would end up just like… her…

* * *

Oh God, the heat that went through him just at the brush of their lips. This wasn’t the time, this wasn’t the place, but every cell in his body cried out for just one kiss… just one before it all came to a screeching halt. His lips parted, but he felt Dean’s hesitation… read the fears in his eyes. Big brother still wasn’t convinced he could be trusted.

“No. I want this to stop.” He started to shove Dean away. “We can’t just… we really need to think about it, and until then, you can’t touch me.”

The completely feral look that flashed in Dean’s eyes would have scared anyone, but what blew Sammy away was watching the struggle for control and seeing Dean win the battle and start to pull away. “See what I mean,” he said softly, grabbing Dean’s shirt and pulling him right back and crushing their mouths together for a quick, messy kiss. He didn’t wait for Dean to react, but shoved his tongue inside his brother’s mouth, engaging his tongue in what he knew would be a battle for dominance… one Dean couldn’t resist.

* * *

  
_No._

It was a really simple word. Its meaning quite clear. Yet when Sam said it, right at that moment, Dean could only stare at his brother as though he were speaking another language. The younger man shoving him away made the message more ‘clear’ and even as his brother’s refusal of him made his heart twist painfully the almost irrational anger it ignited in him scared him far more.

Just as he’d felt that night, when he’d seen the mark on his brother’s neck and thought that someone else had given it to Sam. That someone else had touched what was _his_. The same wild, possessiveness reared inside of him. As though Sam had absolutely no right to refuse him… If he’d had any doubts about Sam’s theory that he’d chosen his brother to be his ‘mate’ they vanished right then.

Just as he’d feared, a part of him wanted to yank Sam back to him, crush their mouths together, and take what was his even if it wasn’t offered. The instinct was so strong, to dominate, to prove to them both that his brother belonged to him, yet somehow he forced it back. Forced himself to let go of Sam and pull away, he had to get away now or…

But suddenly Sam wasn’t letting him. He barely registered his brother’s words before Sam was yanking him back close, sealing their mouths together in an almost brutal kiss, especially given how bruised and swollen both their lips were, but at the same time he didn’t give a damn. Clutching at his brother, growling low in his throat as he sucked on the younger man’s tongue before forcing it back and tasting every inch of his brother’s mouth with his own.

It was only hearing the sound of his father’s footsteps returning to their room that he managed to tear his mouth away from his brother’s. Too late to pull apart completely he pressed his face against his brother’s shoulder instead as he tried to regain control of his breathing and racing heart. Better to let Dad think they were having a ‘chick flick’ moment than making out…

He heard their father pause in the doorway briefly before clearing his throat and walking inside. Dumping his duffle bag on the floor but not saying anything for the moment. Giving his sons a few minutes to ‘compose’ themselves which Dean was eternally grateful for.

* * *

There was no gentleness in that kiss. Just Dean being feral and possessive, squeezing him so tight he could barely breath, driving every last coherent thought of out Sam’s head. He kissed his brother back, demanding more, always more, anything Dean wanted to dish out he could take… wanted to take.

Dean suddenly ripped his mouth away and Sam started to protest until his brain caught up with him. His heart stuttered at the sight of the back of father’s head. His arms slid away from Dean… Dean still pressing into him, still blowing hot breaths across the sensitive skin of his throat… still making him burn. He took a deep breath, and gave a cough as he untangled himself from Dean, their eyes meeting and holding each others’ gaze for a minute. Sam took it as a silent promise, that he wouldn’t be ignored. Nodding, he forced himself up off the floor.

“Dad,” he crossed in front of Dean, covering his brother from view. “Didn’t expect you back.” Now there was the understatement of the year. “Did you… did you find anything.” He felt Dean’s gaze drilling into his back, and hoped to God their dad brought some good news.

* * *

It was hard to let his brother go right now, but Dean did, because he knew he had to. Because he knew if he didn’t their dad would start to really wonder what the fuck was going on, and… Dean didn’t even want to think of those possible consequences. What they were dealing with now was bad enough.

Dean didn’t miss how Sam stood protectively in front of him, blocking him from their father’s view. Like maybe his brother thought that John would immediately grab him up and try to shake his head off of his shoulder again. It should have felt absurd, needing his brother’s protection from their dad, instead he was quite grateful to his brother for giving him a few extra moments to compose himself in front of the older man.

John didn’t miss it either as he finally turned to look at his two boys, but he said nothing about it. Not now at least. Not when he was still so on edge. It was actually probably a good thing. He’d barely managed to force down his anger and fear. The sight of finding Sam and Dean struggling over a gun burned in his memory forever. Knowing what Dean had tried to do…

He had to force down the memory before he completely lost his temper again, did or said something he would regret. Much like the night Sam had left for college, the argument that had pushed his younger son away, and led to them not speaking for two years. John didn’t want to risk something like that again. Didn’t want to risk losing both his sons this time…

So the older man took the way out that Sam was offering them all, giving his younger son a slight nod before turning back to unpacking some things from his duffel.

“The man I was looking dropped off the map almost five years ago. As far as anyone knows he’s still alive, but no one seems to know where he went. It sounded to me like he was running from something, whatever the reason he definitely doesn’t want to be found. I’m still waiting on some leads to get back to me. But from everything I’ve heard, he sounds legitimate. Rumors are he was once bitten by a werewolf himself, and was able to cure himself somehow.”

* * *

“Really?” He turned, “Dean, did you hear that?” No way his brother could have missed it, but did he understand? Sam had been running on hope before, but now... now there was a concrete reason to hope. His dad told things the way they were, he didn’t pretty them up... so if he said there was a good chance, there was.

 

Turning back to his dad, he gave him a determined look. “We’re gonna find him. I wanna help. Maybe you can give me all the details. No one disappears, everyone is traceable.”

Already, he was itching to his the lap top, though a yawn escaped him and he covered his mouth a bit too late. “Shall I get us some coffee? Dean, you wanna come with?” He didn’t want to leave his brother alone with their dad but couldn’t explain why since his dad seemed to have cooled off.

* * *

Dean nodded slightly when Sam turned to him, asking him if he’d heard. Yeah, he’d heard. He certainly wasn’t deaf, after all. He also wasn’t blind and he didn’t really see what there was to get so excited over.

Though he tried to keep his doubt to himself. Especially since Sam seemed suddenly so hopeful. False hope, in Dean’s opinion. But he supposed, given how fucked up things were at the moment, even false hope was better than none at all.

It seemed far too good to be true. Especially when his father’s news wasn’t all that great. It wasn’t like rumors proved shit, and not to mention that the guy they were looking for had been missing for years, and was probably dead…

Yeah, his dad wasn’t the kind of guy to normally sugar coat anything, but John had just walked in on his werewolf son attempting to kill himself. More or less. What if their dad just didn’t want to push him over the edge again? Trying to soften the blow? The man was only human after all.

Dean had barely opened his mouth to answer his brother, before John held up his hand, silencing him before he could speak.

“Yes, we’re going to find him. Like I said, I’m already waiting to hear back on some leads. And yes, I’ll need your help, Sam, but we can discuss the details later. Right now I think what we all need is a few hours of sleep.” The older man said and Dean’s eyes widened a little in shock, when had his father ever wanted to take ‘time off’ on a hunt for something trivial like sleep? Further cementing his belief that his father was handling him with kid’s gloves right now, and he shouldn’t take his ‘news’ too seriously.

“You boys are obviously exhausted and I’ve been driving for almost sixteen hours. We’ll be able to think more clearly if we get some rest rather than keep running off caffeine. I’m going to take a shower.” His father continued, grabbing some sleep clothes, and heading for the bathroom. Effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

“Dammit. I hate when he does that,” Sam groused, staring at the closed door. Yeah he was tired, he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all yet. But he wanted to know more, he wanted the leads, he wanted to find something that would make Dean smile again.

Dropping his hands to his sides, he turned to Dean. “So? You got that it’s good news, right?” He could tell Dean didn’t see it that way and he didn’t want him to feel like he had to pretend. “I know it’s early, but I have a good feeling about this. And if I’m right, you’re buying me beers for a week.”

He started to walk to the bed and his hands went the button of his jeans when the ramifications of going to sleep now hit him. His gaze shifted back to Dean, and he felt like his every move was being watched. Probably Dean had realized at the same moment.

He rubbed the back of his neck, kind of unsure about taking off his jeans, but equally sure his dad would have questions if he did a stupid thing like go to bed in them. “Ah... Dean, do you think maybe you should sleep with dad?” He cocked his head to the side, half serious. “Cause I don’t know how we’re supposed to get any sleep if we’re...”

* * *

Dean couldn’t help the slight twitch of his lips when Sam predictably complained about their father as soon as the bathroom door closed. Normally he’d have been rolling his eyes, or just tuning his brother out, but at the moment it was a little comforting. That some things would always stay the same no matter what else changed.

When the younger man turned back to him, the hope written all over his brother’s face made his heart twist a little more. He wished he could share Sam’s optimism, but he just couldn’t. Not now at least, with so little to go on. It would only make it worse when this lead fell through just like every other possible ‘cure’ they’d heard about so far.

“Deal.” He replied anyway, and started considering maybe he should get up off the floor now. But as he watched Sam move over to the bed, his brother’s hands going to the button on his jeans, his brain stuttered to a halt. Realizing they would now have to sleep together. Squeezed together in that damn small queen sized bed…

Though his desire had been momentarily forgotten with the appearance of their father, his body certainly remembered how it had been denied. Just the thought of lying together, wrapped around each other, even ‘innocently’ was making him flush with heat and his cock twitch with interest. How the hell were they supposed to… with their father in the same room…

He could tell just from the look on Sam’s face that his brother was thinking the exact same thing. They were so fucked…

“And you don’t think that’s going to make him a little suspicious?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. After all, when was the last time either of them had slept with their father?

Dean glanced down at his crotch, realizing a boner would probably make his father even more suspicious, and he let out a strained laugh in spite of himself. Banging his head back against the wall, scrubbing his face with his hands, trying to ignore his traitorous dick.

“Maybe I’ll just stay here on the floor…”

* * *

His face dead serious, he'd been listening to Dean and then he saw him look down at his groin area and bang his head. Without wanting to, he let out a small laugh. "It's like freaking high school only its not Sally Mae's tight skirt that you wanna see un-- Right, probably best not to talk about this."

Clearing his throat, he wondered how dumb it would sound to ask Dean to turn around. Just knowing he was watching would probably have unwanted consequences and Sam didn't want to deal with a hard dick on top of lack of sleep. Right... like he was gonna be able to avoid it.

Biting his lip, he just went for it. Unzipping, pushing his jeans off and rolling into bed in almost a single fluid motion, and pulling the sheets up to his neck. "You could tell him I move too much. Or I stink... maybe a cold shower..." His gaze flicked to his brother. "Or maybe if you stay on the floor..."

* * *

It wasn’t funny. It really wasn’t. Then why couldn’t he stop the snort of absurd laughter that escaped him all of a sudden after watching Sam strip off his jeans quickly and jump into the bed, pulling the covers up all the way to his neck like a little kid trying to hide from the boogie man.

Oh god, he really was losing it. He had to be, or maybe a part of him had simply run up the white flag, because he was still snickering even as a look that was half predatory and half playful entered his eyes as he pushed himself up off the floor. Standing beside the bed, looking down at his brother ‘cowering’ beneath the sheets with a grin as he quickly stripped off his shirt, and then more slowly unbuttoned and pushed down his jeans.

Quickly climbing into the bed and bracing himself over his brother. His knees on either side of the younger man’s hips, his arms beside his brother’s head. Hovering not touching, but not letting Sam get away either, as he grinned down at the younger man.

“Or… we could be really quick right now…”

* * *

When Dean started to strip, Sam watched him warily. Something about the way he moved and the look he was giving him made Sam real nervous, which was ridiculous since dad was just in the other room... right?

He pulled his gaze away when Dean’s hands lingered too long on his jeans. That was exactly why he was startled when Dean climbed on top of him. The shock had him turning his face and jerking practically up off the bed, only to find he was trapped. Trapped under Dean, separated only by a few inches, and a sheet.

Heart banging against his chest, he looked wildly toward the bathroom door and pushed his hand up against his brother’s chest. “Dean, get off... he’s... Dean, I’m serious!” Even when they weren’t touching, he could feel the heat from Dean’s body seeping through the sheets and his body was clamoring to feel his weight pressing down.

“Dean!” This time, his voice came out breathy.

* * *

“So am I.” Dean replied. His eyes darkening with renewed lust as he looked down at the younger man’s flushed face. Licking his lips, his breath growing heavier, and his heart rate quickening just from the single touch of Sam’s hand against his chest.

His brother’s weak protest easily ignored as he let his body drop to press against the younger man’s with a low groan. The thin sheet separating them absolutely no barrier as he pressed his already hard cock firmly against his brother.

“You know Dad, he’ll be in there at least fifteen minutes, trust me, I won’t need that long…” He said only half joking, grinning a little as he started to rock his hips slowly against the younger man. Leaning in as though for a kiss but stopping when their lips were a breath apart.

“Please Sammy…”

* * *

Dean’s excruciatingly slow thrusts had Sam aching for more and panting in no time. Need threatened to overwhelm him, to make it impossible for him to think... to make him agree to this madness.

“Dean... no ... Dean,” his mouth brushed against his brother’s as he spoke in a panicked whisper. “He’s RIGHT there... can’t... can’t do this.” As his brother single-mindedly brought his hips down and their cocks slid together again, Sam groaned. “Oh God. He almost caught us... no... uh uh...”

The memory of seeing his dad while Dean was right on top of him gave Sam strength to push at Dean, “I’ll... you watch for him, and I’ll take care of you.” That way, his stubborn brother might agree, and then there wouldn’t be any evidence of what they’d done. Yeah... wouldn’t help Sam any, but fear was a great motivator. “Come on Dean, just roll on your back... and you’d better listen hard for him.”

* * *

Dean heard his brother’s protests, and yes, Sam was right they shouldn’t do this, not now, not with Dad just in the other room, only one door, not even locked, separating them. But neither his mind nor his body was listening to any kind of reason. Not after being denied once already.

He wanted Sam, needed him, right now, he couldn’t wait.

When his brother pushed at him again Dean groaned in frustration, if Sam would just stop wasting time they could have been half done by now…

But then the younger man was offering to take care of him, ordering him to roll over, and Dean wasn’t about to argue. He didn’t care how they did this as long as he got off. Nodding, letting himself slide off his brother’s body and rolling over onto his back. Panting as he palmed his aching cock through his boxers.

“Please, Sam…”

* * *

The ache in Dean’s voice had Sam practically shaking. Somehow, he managed to pull the sheet over Dean. “Listen for him.”

Ducking under the sheets, he moved Dean’s hand and pulled his shorts down, the instant he felt the insistent press of Dean’s cock against his cheek, his blood surged to his groin, making him impossibly harder. So this was the meaning of torture.

Recalling how he’d been able to quickly bring Dean off when he’d been drunk, Sam grasped his shaft, sucking his breath in at his thickness and length. He’d been like this, and inside him. Whimpering at the thought, he started to move his hand up and down Dean’s shaft, starting slow but quickly setting a faster pace. He knew his brother wanted his mouth... and he’d have it, but Sam wanted this over as fast as it could happen.

He stroked, and squeezed, his breath catching each time Dean made a soft noise. Dean was definitely trying to control him, to set the pace, to force his mouth down. Sam refused, knowing the only reason he was getting away with it was that there was no time and Dean couldn’t kick up a fuss or take the chance that Sam would.

Smirking, it was only when Dean was close that he took him in his mouth, wetting him, tasting him, sucking hard and fast... no mercy, because Dean didn’t want any. Even when Dean started lifting his hips and stuffing himself deeper in his throat, threatening t choke him, Sam didn’t stop. He squeezed his brother’s balls, encouraging him, wanting ... needing him to come as hard s he had last night.

* * *

When Sam slipped underneath the covers and pulled his hand away from his dick, his fingers immediately found their way into the younger man’s hair instead. Threading his fingers through the soft strands, splitting his attention between what his brother was doing while he listened intently to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.

He really hoped his Dad decided to take a long shower…

Dean bit off a groan as he lifted his hips to let his brother slide down his underwear. Just the brush of Sam’s cheek against his cock making him burn, and then his brother was touching him. Wrapping his huge hand easily around his dick. Stroking him from base to tip without any hesitation, as he’d still almost expected despite the younger man’s promise before they’d been interrupted…

“Sammy…” He panted his brother’s name softly, before he had to bite his lips to stifle the louder sounds of pleasure that tried to escape as Sam increased his pace, feeling the younger man’s breath against his sensitive flesh, but still only using his hand. Dean tugged gently on his brother’s hair trying to move Sam’s mouth where he wanted it, and then a bit more forcibly.

“Sam… god… please I want…” Dean groaned in frustration when Sam resisted, his hips bucking, fucking up into his brother’s fist. His balls tightening as the younger man worked him quickly towards release. When his brother finally gave him his mouth, taking him deeply without preamble, sucking him hard, he had to bite down on the flesh of his other hand to keep from moaning too loud.

At least he could still hear the shower running, thank god. The danger of their father finding them like this should have been a mood killer, instead the threat of discovery almost made it all more intense. He couldn’t even think about anything except how good Sam’s mouth felt on him, how good his hand squeezing his balls felt, as he fucked deeper into his brother’s throat. Biting down so hard on his hand he tasted blood to keep from shouting as he came so hard down his brother’s throat he felt like he might just pass out.

* * *

His brother’s climax was almost violent. Sam had to pull up his dick a bit, but kept his lips wrapped firmly around dean and swallowed everything he gave him, down to the last drop… still keeping him in his mouth until he went completely flaccid. When Dean was completely still, Sam released him and dragged his shorts up.

Pushing the sheets off, he came out and heard the shower was still going. The first thing he did was look at Dean, relieved when his brother didn’t look away, didn’t withdraw… and didn’t grow cold and distant. The second, he remembered Dean’s dirty suggestions. “You wanted to taste yourself inside me?” Without waiting for an answer, he brought his open mouth down over Dean’s, giving him free access.

Almost immediately, he felt Dean’s tongue filling his mouth… searching, tasting every part of him It was hot, and fast, both of them knowing there was no time. Sam pulled away, and dropped onto his back, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “Stop hurting yourself,” he turned his head. “I taste blood.” He was trying not to think of how hard he was, how much he wanted to just put his hand down his own shorts and jerk off to the memory of jacking Dean off.

* * *

Dean’s breathing and heartbeat gradually slowed as he grew soft in his brother’s mouth, though the pleasure Sam had given him was still making his body thrum. His skin feeling hot and over sensitive to even the slightest touch, from the cool sheet caressing his skin to the soft brush of his boxers as the younger man slid them back into place. One last soft groan escaping him as his brother finally let him slip from his lips and came out from under the covers.

His fingers carded more gently through Sam’s soft hair as their eyes met. He couldn’t have looked away even if he wanted to. His brother’s question making his breath catch and he moaned almost too loud, but he didn’t care, into the younger man’s mouth as Sam brought their lips together and Dean eagerly tasted every inch of his brother’s mouth. The taste of himself mingled with Sam’s unique taste making him flush even after the powerful release he’d just received.

He was panting all over again when they finally parted. Rolling over onto his side as Sam laid back, though he rolled his eyes a little at his brother’s complaint.

“So, you’d rather Dad come running out of the bathroom wondering why I’m screaming your name at the top of my lungs?” The elder man asked with a raised eyebrow and a grin. Scooting closer to his brother and rolling half on top of him. Sliding his hand underneath the covers and then up underneath his brother’s t-shirt. Tracing the well defined muscles with his palm.

“There was something else I said I wanted too. Your turn, little brother” Dean reminded the younger man, brushing his lips softly against his brother’s again and then kissing his neck. Working his way quickly lower as he listened for the sound of the shower still running, though he knew it could stop any moment. Nipping the younger man’s nipple through the soft cotton while his fingers tweaked the other.

* * *

“How about stuffing a sock in it instead of biting yourself,” Sam suggested, tensing when Dean moved. He had good reason because before he knew it, Dean’s weight was pressing down on him, and his mouth was leaving hot trails down his throat. Then Dean’s calloused palm was brushing his skin under his shirt, and he was involuntarily arching… gasping when Dean nipped him.

“Dean, no.” God he wanted this, wanted what his brother had said would come next. “I can’t… I really can’t, not with dad there,” he was shoving Dean away, even when every cell in his body screamed at him to let this happen. “Oh God, don’t make it worse, please.” He was already going to have a helluva time sleeping.

The shower stopped, and Sam panicked. “Dammit Dean, off me,” he shoved harder, then scrambled to the very edge of the bed, his heart pounding, his cock aching, his pulse freaking out of control, and his temper… fuming. “Seriously, stop. He’s not stupid,” Rolling onto his stomach, he bit his lower lip and controlled the urge to move his hips. “Night…” Closing his eyes tight, he tried to will himself to sleep.

* * *

Up till now Dean had ignored his brother’s protests, knowing they weren’t because Sam didn’t want this, he was just worried about Dad. Which was understandable. Not like he _wanted_ the older man to walk in on them either. But if they were quick then their father would never be the wiser and they could both go to sleep comfortably…

But apparently that wasn’t happening, because the water in the shower had shut off and Sam didn’t even give him time to stop, practically shoving him off the other side of the bed instead.

“Jesus Christ, Sam.” Dean muttered as he glared at the back of his brother’s head when the younger man turned away from him. Yeah, he knew their dad wasn’t an idiot, but neither was he damn it. Sam didn’t need to fucking overreact.

Dean rolled onto his back with a heavy sigh. If Sam wanted to suffer that was his choice, it shouldn’t bother him so much, but it did. Though it wasn’t really that, or the fact that Sam had refused him that bothered him, because he understood perfectly well why. It was more the way he’d done it that rubbed him that irritated the hell out of him.

He momentarily forgot about that though when their father came out of the bathroom. Their eyes met and for a moment Dean held his breath. The same fear perhaps that his brother felt flooding him for a moment that their dad would somehow _know_ what they’d been doing just from looking at him. But the older man merely gave him a slight nod, shutting off the lights in the room before getting into the other bed.

“Dad…” He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say, but he just didn’t… he didn’t want the angry words John had yelled in his face to be the only thing spoken between them right now. But he didn’t get more than that one word out before his father silenced him.

“It’s all right, Dean. Get some sleep.” The elder man said, not unkindly, and even though Dean knew it wasn’t ‘all right’, not really, he was still comforted a little.

However Dean didn’t go to sleep, even as tired as he felt. He laid there awake, listened to his father fall asleep before he rolled over to face his brother who he knew wasn’t asleep either though he pretended to be. Pressing himself up firmly against the younger man’s back and wrapping an arm securely around his brother’s waist to make sure he didn’t try to run away or anything equally stupid.

“I know you’re still awake.” Dean whispered, brushing his lips against the back of his brother’s neck.

* * *

Sam had been chasing sleep with the same desperation he’d wanted Dean to make him his. His dad’s timing had shot the second possibility out of the water, and he really... really needed to get beyond his raging hard on and catch some sleep.

The movement of the mattress was all the warning he had, before Dean was blanketing him with his arms... and he had the crazy notion his brother was imprisoning him in place. The hot brush of Dean’s mouth along his already sensitized skin was almost too much to bear. Sam arched and made a senseless sound, his heart lurching almost painfully against his ribs.

Oh God... dad was right there... right there, and Dean was holding him like he shouldn’t. Like he was playing a game of chicken or wanted to get caught, it bugged the hell out of Sam that he was getting dragged into this game. Tilting his head toward Dean, biting his lip as a warm breath caressed his cheek, he took a deep breath. “Cut it out Dean. Enough,” he whispered harshly, trying to make his brother see he wasn’t joking.

His grip on Dean’s wrist, his attempt to force him to break his hold was going nowhere especially since Sam was on the edge of the bed and had nowhere to maneuver. If he thrashed around and earnestly fought Dean off, his dad would wake for sure.

“Let go. Now!” His brother’s mouth was so close, the heat from his body felt so fucking good, made him think of so many things they couldn’t do. “I’m serious, dammit!”

* * *

At first Dean had been only irritated, but now Sam was really beginning to piss him off.

He stopped kissing his brother's neck and sat up angrily, pushing himself up on his elbow just enough to glare down at the younger man. Though he refused to release his hold around Sam despite the almost harsh grip his brother had around his wrist, maybe even because of it.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" He hissed, his voice soft as a whisper but that didn't do anything to conceal the confusion and anger of his tone.

"He's fucking asleep! Don't try to tell me you've never beat off when you thought we were both asleep. It's not like he's going to know if you'd just shut up, so what is the problem?" Dean demanded, frustrated beyond belief at the mixed signals his brother was giving off.

Then, out of nowhere, it occurred to him that maybe Sam wasn't protesting so much because he was afraid of getting caught by their father, but because he didn't really want this and it was a convenient excuse. He was so fucking stupid. How could he have let himself believe, even for a moment that Sam would actually be 'ok' with all of this?

"Fine." He whispered just as harshly, releasing the younger man and rolling away from him abruptly. Moving to the very edge of the bed, much like Sam had, facing away from his brother. Fuming silently to himself, trying to ignore the heartache that went along with it.

* * *

Sam practically reeled under his brother’s angry tone. He’d thought Dean was playing a game, that he was torturing him. Just when had he gotten so damned sensitive? Didn’t he get that he really couldn’t do this with dad in the room?

His chest heaved at he stared at the ceiling, wondering if what he had to look forward to tomorrow was Dean’s back. Again.

He needed to toughen up, really he did. And yet... it fucking hurt every time Dean pulled away. It had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with needing his brother... just needing things to be okay. There was no one in the world that he was closer to, and God... how many times could he lose him in the space of a week?

“Dean?” Swallowing over the painful lump in his throat, this time he rolled over and pressed himself against Dean’s back, letting him feel his still hard erection against his ass. “I can’t do it with him here, I just can’t.” He licked his lips and leaned closer. “I never jacked off with either of you in the room, always in the bathroom. _I swear._. Dammit, I’m not making _this_ up,” he arched his hips so his erection ground against Dean.

* * *

Dean felt his anger bleeding away, almost against his will, the second Sam whispered his name like that. The younger man sounding so hesitant, needy, and he blew out a long frustrated sigh between his teeth.

It was kind of amazing how much his brother could ‘say’ in just the one syllable of his name. It was also kind of amazing how he reacted every single time, Sam always knew exactly how to play him, ever since they were kids. Damn it, but his little brother could wrap him around his pinky without even trying. He always could. That was kind of what worried him so much.

Was Sam just playing him now? Just telling him what he thought he wanted to hear?

Dean let out another sigh, the soft sound ending in a near silent moan, his muscles relaxing slowly in spite of himself when his brother pressed himself up against his back. Sam’s erection fitting snugly against the crease of his ass. Ok, so maybe he wasn’t making that up. But why did his brother have to be such a fucking prude?

He couldn’t stop himself from pressing his ass back against his brother when Sam ground into him harder. Turning his head to look back at the younger man over his shoulder.

“I did.” Dean admitted, a slight smirk pulling at his lips before it slipped off his face quickly again. “I just wanted to take care of you, Sammy…”

* * *

Sam clenched his teeth to keep from moaning. What part of ‘making this worse’ did his brother not get? But when he saw the smirk, he didn’t care anymore. Just that small reassurance that they were still good was enough to make him feel better.

“I know you did,” he answered gravely. “I heard you... all the time. That’s why it’s not that unusual for me to go to bed like this.” He remembered the low sounds of fist moving against sheets, remembered how they affected him, not because it was Dean but it was a heck of a lot like watching porn. And then he’d have to either sleep with a woody, or let enough time pass that Dean wouldn’t know he’d been awake, and then yawning, head to the bathroom.

“I’m okay, really.” He dropped a kiss on Dean’s shoulder. “Just need some sleep, and for you to stop moving you ass like that.” There was a tired plea in his voice, even as he closed his eyes. “Take care of me some other time...”

* * *

Dean raised an eyebrow when Sam said he knew, had heard him, and couldn’t stop a snort of laughter from escaping him that he muffled into a pillow. Though he had to admit, it was also kind of hot imagining his little brother listening to him jerk off in the middle of the night, getting all hot and bothered because of it. The rest of the tension draining out of him when he felt his brother brush a soft kiss against his shoulder.

“Ok.” He finally agreed, smirking again a little when the younger man told him to stop moving his ass, but he obeyed. Lying still, though not before he reached for his brother’s hand and dragged Sam’s arm around his waist, just wanting the younger man close to him. It wasn’t uncommon for them to wake up rather snuggled together like this, it was only a friggen queen size bed after all, and their dad had never said anything about it before, so he didn’t expect Sam to kick up a fuss now.

“I’m holding you to that.” He whispered softly, letting his eyes slide closed as well.


	9. Chapter 9

He was being fucked within an inch of his life and begging for more, and then his eyes opened and his heart almost stopped. It had been so real, so real his cock was pulsing and he had to battle the urge to rub against Dean’s ass.  


  
Slowly moving away, he looked over as his brother, sleeping peacefully, and then at his dad, whose head was practically under the cover – probably to avoid the light. Letting out a sigh of relief, he got up and padded to the bathroom, glad no one would notice or could comment on the state of his tenting shorts.

A few minutes later, he had the shower on and was leaning with his forehead against the cool tile, imagining Dean behind him. His hand moved up and down his shaft, the friction adding to the pressure that had been building all night. Just the thought of taking Dean inside him, clenching... sheathing Dean as his brother whispered hotly in his ear and held him so tight it almost hurt, had Sam clamping down on the need to call out.

He started to move faster, his breaths coming out in gasps as he breathed in the hot, moist air and thought of Dean’s tongue inside his mouth... the struggle for control, the knowledge he’d lose but like it. Painfully hot now, he gave a low moan, and then all hell broke loose. He came so suddenly, so hard, he forgot to clench his teeth together and called out Dean’s name.

Eyes opening in shock, he kept stroking himself, coming down slowly, and hoping to hell it had just sounded louder to his own ears. Licking his lips, he stayed there for a while longer, trying to get his thoughts and feelings in order.

*

Sam walked out with a towel draped around his waist. His father was still asleep, but his brother was half sitting up and their gazes locked. Feeling like Dean could see right through him, Sam held his breath and froze like a deer caught in headlights.

* * *

When Dean woke up he was alone, much to his disappointment. Well, he wasn’t _really_ alone since his father was snoring away in the bed next to his, but his brother was gone. Not long, since the space beside him was still warm, but that didn’t stop him from frowning a little. Especially considering what had happened after the last time he’d woken alone… but he didn’t really want to think about that right now.

The sound of the running water from the bathroom was pretty much a dead giveaway where the younger man had gone. Dean sighed softly, pouting a little, as he rolled onto his back and stretched languidly. It was then that he picked up the soft moan with his sharp ears, the sound leaving little doubt what his brother was doing and Dean didn’t know whether to be amused or a little irritated. Since he wanted to be the one making Sam moan like that, not the younger man’s right hand.

As he listened to his brother pleasure himself in the shower, Dean found his own hand slipping underneath the blankets. His fingers curling without shame around his already half hard cock, stroking himself as he imagined Sam in the bathroom. How the water would be caressing his brother’s skin in warm rivulets, following every valley and curve of muscle, while Sam’s hand moved over his flesh. Imagining it was him.

Maybe the last part was only wishful thinking, though the overly possessive part of him growled that it better be him that Sam was thinking about. His ‘worries’ put to rest when he heard his brother come, his name spilling from the younger man’s lips and Dean had to bite off a too loud groan that could have woken his father.

His hand working faster on his flesh, not stopping even when he heard the bathroom door open. Opening his eyes to look at his brother, half heat/ half amusement in his gaze, not bothering to hide what he was doing. Though the sight of the beautiful young man standing there, watching him, half naked and still dripping from his shower was all that he needed to push him over the edge, his muscles tensing, his back and neck arching as he found release. A quiet groan the only sound escaping his lips, his come splashing hot across his stomach and fingers.

* * *

Every muscle in Sam’s body tightened, his stomach clenching hard with the realization that his brother was getting off right there, his gaze tracking him... making it clear who it was he was getting off to. For the life of him, Sam couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop his pulse from racing, or the sharp gasp that left him when Dean got that intense look and came.

Trying to act nonchalant, though he was sure the heat in his cheeks gave him away, Sam picked up his clothes and went to sit on the bed next to Dean. “You’re nuts. I mean seriously nuts. Do you always have to push the envelope?” His gaze went to the lump in the next bed, then back to Dean, lingering on his brother’s lips for a moment as he struggled not to be like Dean, not to push that envelope, not to risk getting caught.

Giving a sound of frustration, he turned away and started to pull his shorts up his legs, towel still firmly about him.

* * *

Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud at the expression on Sam’s face, for a moment his brother looking like his eyes were about to fall out of his head. Though the younger man quickly recovered, attempting to look unfazed as he came to sit down beside him on the bed, though the bright color in Sam’s cheeks, not to mention the sharp smell of arousal coming so clearly from the younger man gave away he wasn’t so unaffected as he pretended.

He grinned as he adjusted his shorts, tucking himself away, before he threw back the covers. Shifting to kneel behind his brother, slipping his arms around Sam’s waist, his fingers still damp with his own release as they lightly traced along the hard contours of his brother’s stomach. Then Dean wiped off his hand off on his brother’s towel with a grin.

“Maybe you don’t push it enough.” He whispered softly into the younger man’s ear before he pulled away and climbed off the bed. Not wanting to get yelled at again for molesting his brother when their father was in the room he headed for the bathroom.

“Next time? Wait for me.” He said before closing the bathroom door, though he left it open a few inches in invitation.

* * *

Sam half heartedly cursed under his breath. How could a gesture so damn dirty be a turn on? How?

His hand slid over his stomach, where Dean had touched him... where his skin still burned. No... no he wasn’t going to fall for Dean’s challenge, he just was not.

Getting up, he quickly found his jeans and pulled them up, zipping up. Dammit, predictably tight around his cock. This was Dean’s fault.

He glanced at the bathroom door, noticing there was no sound of water, nothing. Did he really think that he could issue a challenge and that Sam would just fall into it? Hell no. Yeah... that’s why he was padding toward the bathroom, to tell him just that.

And that’s why the instant he pushed the door shut behind him, he was in Dean’s arms, seeking he heat of his mouth. It was crazy... he was crazy to want this, to need it... to need it so bad he was kissing his brother with his father in the next room. Crushing his mouth harder against Dean’s, he tried to suppress a moan, tried not to want to peel his jeans off and make Dean touch him the way he’d been touching himself. “Do you know how crazy this is?’ He whispered thickly, between mind drugging kisses. “Do you?”

* * *

He had been standing in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection with a small frown. The bruise on his cheek was already nearly healed. As was the cut on his lip where he’d bitten it and Sam had reopened the wound with a lucky punch. Another day or two, and the marks would probably be completely gone. The bite on his inner thigh didn’t even hurt anymore.

He was healing faster. As though he needed any more reminders how much of a freak he was now...

Dean sighed softly, but when he saw his brother enter the bathroom, obviously having accepted his ‘offer’ he couldn’t help but smile a little as he turned around to face the younger man. His arms slipping around Sam and tugging him close with a groan of pleasure as their mouths met.

His fingers not hesitant in the least as they explored up and down the length of his brother’s back while he explored his mouth with his tongue. Feeling almost drunk on the taste of the younger man and loving the feel of his brother’s muscles shifting and moving underneath his hands as Sam pressed even closer to him.

“Don’t care…” Dean panted softly before sealing his mouth over his brother’s again, tangling his tongue with the younger man’s as his hands slid down underneath the waistband of his brother’s jeans. Cupping and caressing Sam’s ass, encouraging his brother to grind against him.

* * *

Always pushing the envelope. Always taking control. All the things that Sam usually railed and fought against, and here he was being driven to the edge each time he willingly put himself in his brother’s power, let him maul and mold him... do whatever he wanted with him.

His ass clenched under Dean’s palms, hard and demanding, holding him so damn tight, bringing him into harder contact with his brother’s body moving against is, so hot, so aggressive. “Dean... oh God...” He was burning up, burning for Dean, thinking only of Dean, needing him so damned much, touching him, running his hands up and down Dean’s back, then cupping his head as their kiss intensified.

* * *

Dean was half a second away from turning Sam around and shoving him up against the sink. Ripping down his brother’s jeans, opening him up with his tongue and fingers, and burying himself to the hilt inside of the younger man’s body. He’d been on fire for the younger man ever since last night. Even though he’d just come he was already hard and aching again, creating an embarrassing wet stain on the front of his underwear but he didn’t give a damn.

That was, of course, when he heard movement in the other room signaling that their father was now awake, probably would want to use the bathroom soon, and the elder man tore his lips away from his brother’s with a frustrated growl.

“The man has the worst fucking timing ever!” He hissed under his breath. Pressing his forehead against the younger man’s shoulder, trying to regain control over his breathing, not to mention his body. Resisting the urge to continue grinding against Sam despite how much he wanted to. Not wanting to make things ‘worse’ as his brother had put it last night.

* * *

“No...” Sam started to demand his brother give him more, when Dean’s words slowly cut through the haze in his mind. “He... he’s awake?” His heart slammed into his chest, but even fear of detection didn’t stop him from trying to steal another moment.

Swallowing hard, he licked his lips. “How’re we gonna do this?” It was rhetorical question, and he wasn’t sure they could. Not when he was aching for Dean and they hadn’t even parted.

He felt Dean’s mouth move from his shoulder to the side of his neck. At the first hint of sucking in place, he gave a heated, “No,” instinctively knowing that that Dean was dying to mark him. Again. “Dean, can’t ... just no.”

Taking a few breaths, he forced himself to push away and turned to the sink. Grabbing a toothbrush and sticking it in his mouth for no reason other than as a prop in case dad came in, he turned the water on. When he glanced up in the mirror, the heat in his brother’s eyes had him weak kneed like some girl. Feeling the heat steal up his cheeks, he gave Dean a look, asking for mercy.

* * *

Dean growled in disapproval when Sam once again told him no, and pulled away, but he didn’t try to reach for the younger man again. No matter how much he wanted to ignore Sam’s protests, ignore their father in the next room. No matter how much he wanted to just grab his brother and fuck his mouth with his tongue, grind against him until they both came screaming. But he didn’t. He resisted, barely. Instead ignoring how hard he was right now, tenting the front of his shorts, aching…

He bit off another groan, when his brother stuck his toothbrush into his mouth. That so should not be a turn on in any way, but somehow it was. Though it probably had more to do with the way Sam was looking at him in the mirror. Longing and pleading at the same time. His hands clenched into fists at his side to keep from reaching for his brother again and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

Though that didn’t really help all that much considering the younger man’s scent, his brother’s arousal, was driving him insane as well.

God give him strength.

When he opened his eyes again he didn’t feel any more centered, however at least he had a plan now.

“Brush your teeth, and get dressed. I’m going to take a shower.” A damn cold one. “When I’m done, we’re going out for coffee.” It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. He didn’t care.

Not waiting for Sam’s response Dean stripped off his underwear quickly and got into the stall. Turning the water on as cold as he could stand, hoping that by the time he was done at least he wouldn’t still be sprouting an erection when he had to face his father.

* * *

Dean’s commanding tone and underlying meaning had Sam gripping the edge of the counter. He could just imagine Dean whispering in that same tone, in his ear. He really needed to get a grip. “Coffee. Really? That what they’re calling it these days...” he barely managed to get out, before getting a glimpse of Dean’s bare ass, and the shower door closing.

Letting out a breath, he rinsed the tooth brush, tried not to look the fogged shower glass, not to imagine what would happen if dad weren’t here. Biting his lip, he walked out.

“Morning,” he wiped his hand over his mouth and walked to his bag to grab a shirt. “Didn’t wake you, did we?” Under his lashes, he nervously searched his fathers face, hoping the man had been as soundly asleep as his breathing had indicated.

* * *

John looked up and grunted a greeting to his younger son, scrubbing his tired eyes wearily with his hand. Feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all despite the fact that it was nearly noon. It was truly a rare occasion that his boys were already up and out of bed before he was.

“No.” The elder man answered simply, not much for conversation in the morning until he had his coffee even under normal circumstances.

He heard the shower running in the bathroom, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to figure out where Dean was. Good. Because he wanted to talk to his younger son alone for a minute. John waited until Sam finished dressing before he asked, “How is your brother?”

* * *

  
_No… he said no._ Sam blew out a breath of relief until his father asked about Dean. He licked his lips and looked over at his dad, wanting to ask exactly what he meant. Did he mean was he acting different, as in horny all the time and for his brother to boot? Or was his wound doing well? Or…

No, if dad had any inkling… any… he wouldn’t be so calm. Unless he was trying to trap him into lying. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Okay, he was being paranoid now. And his paranoia might make his dad suspicious, where he might not be right now. Forcing himself to pull his shirt on, Sam answered. “I think he’s okay. His wound is doing…” his head emerged from the tee, “… real good. It’s not infected and he’s walking a lot better.”

He felt the weight of his dad’s gaze and sat down, trying not to fidget. “He’s had his ups and downs,” he shrugged. “I think he’s sorry for… for what he tried, and he seems okay today.” That didn’t mean he hadn’t tried before, or that he wouldn’t again. Sam knew that only too well, and it would eat him up until this thing… this werewolf thing was resolved.

* * *

John Winchester waited as patiently as he was capable of being. Though he didn’t fail to notice how Sam hesitated before answering his question, and then answered very carefully. Causing the elder man to frown a little as he watched his son intently.

He was glad to hear that Dean was doing better physically, it wasn’t that. But Sam knew that’s not what he meant. Especially considering what he’d walked in on last night. He was asking his younger son about his brother’s mental state.

Ups and downs. Well, that was a given. Sam’s opinion that his brother was doing better this morning only made him feel marginally better. In his opinion, his younger son seemed to be taking Dean’s attempt at suicide far too casually. If that was for his benefit or his son’s John didn’t know, but it scared the hell out of him.

“He’s done this before, hasn’t he.” John finally asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

* * *

Sam didn’t answer. He just scrubbed his face, and looked back at his dad. “We have to find an answer soon. He’s...” he cocked his head to the side, searching for words and hoping to hell not to be asked for examples. “A little emotional. Mercurial.” Sucking in a breath, he rushed to add, “nothing I can’t handle. He’s not dangerous. He’s not, dad. I’m not just saying that.”

The last thing he needed was for his father to think he couldn’t handle Dean. Sometimes there were moments when he wasn’t sure, but most of the time he thought he could. Besides, it wasn’t as if they had a choice. He wasn’t letting his brother go, and he’d do anything it took to keep him alive. He wasn’t gonna kid himself, as they got closer to the full moon, it might mean Dean would have to be chained down...

Just the thought made him want to retch. Images of how he’d found him at the werewolf mansion already haunted him. Taking a breath, he told himself it was better than letting him do damage, and that Dean would want it that way. The other choice was unthinkable.

“We have to move on this lead. We just have to get him back. I’ll help you make calls, go out there, whatever it takes. The guy with the cure, he’d got to be somewhere, and we’ll find him.” He was ready to start right there and then, do anything it took.

* * *

Sam didn’t answer his question. Which was an answer in of itself, and the elder man felt his heart twist with fear. All this had happened when he’d been gone for only a few days.

He’d trusted Sam to take care of his brother, and not only had he walked in on the two young men fighting over a loaded weapon, but now he knew this wasn’t the first time Dean had tried something stupid. What would have happened last night if he hadn’t been there? One, or even both, his sons might be dead now…

And Sam hadn’t bothered to tell him the ‘first’ time it had happened, John would have come back much sooner if he’d known, god damn it! That his younger son had kept this from him filled him with disappointment, and not a little anger. His younger son had basically lied to him by omission. What else was Sam keeping from him? After all this how could he trust Sam to look after his brother while he tried desperately to find a cure for his son? If he couldn’t even leave them alone together for a few days…

A little emotional… John raised an eyebrow when his son rushed to reassure him it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Right. He’d certainly proved that. John sighed heavily and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. Trying to force his anger away. It wasn’t Sam’s fault this had happened. John never should have left in the first place, and the closer it got to the full moon Dean would only get worse.

Maybe he wasn’t a danger to others. Not yet. But he was certainly a danger to himself, and if he was a danger to himself then he was a danger to Sam. John dropped his hand with another heavy sigh. If possible feeling even more tired than before.

“We’ll make some calls. One of my contacts has to have a lead by now. We’ll figure out where to go from here.” John finally agreed with a slight nod. Thinking it might not be a bad idea to send Sam off alone to follow some leads and have Dean stay with him. Maybe Sam was still too used to looking for Dean for answers, looking to his older brother to take care of him when it had to be the other way around now. Maybe Dean would respond better to his father than his brother right now.

It was worth a shot. Anything to keep what he’d seen last night from happening again.

Dean came out of the bathroom then, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet from the shower, and John gave the young man a nod that was returned before Dean went over to his duffel and started dressing himself. Dean wasn’t an idiot. He knew they’d been talking about him while he was in the bathroom but he didn’t say anything about it. Once he had his jeans on and pulled a shirt over his head he announced as casually as he could.

“I don’t know about you but I need some coffee, coming Sammy?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother and smirking a little. But it wasn’t the younger man who answered him.

“You boys go get some breakfast, I’ll join you in a little while.” John said as he got up and moved towards the recently vacated bathroom. Shutting the door behind him. Dean’s grin only got more devious.

“Great, I’m starving.”

* * *

Almost nothing could wreck your day like John Winchester all silent and judgmental, looking at you with his expressive eyes and making you feel the weight of his disappointment, and you didn’t even get to know why. You were a failure, that was it. And the fucking silence made it impossible to argue with him, because what were you gonna say? You’re wrong... wrong about what? He’d just lift an eyebrow and make you feel like you’d guessed wrong about what you were being crucified over in his mind, or as if you yourself had given him something new to be disappointed over.

His brother’s in-joke didn’t get a smile out of Sam. He just nodded and watched as the bathroom door closed, still trying to deal with anger and denial roiling inside him. Why could their dad make him feel like an asshole, just like that?

“Okay,” he walked to the foot of the bed and put his jacket on and met Dean at the door. His brother could move fast when he wanted. That should make him laugh, but it didn’t. Still, he couldn’t help noticing the way Dean’s wet hair curled slightly and stuck to his forehead, or feeling the urge to push it back.

He put his hand behind Dean’s back, “we really should get coffee. Doesn’t make sense to make ourselves crazy for ten minutes and then suffer and where would we go anyway?” With each word that fell from his lips, he both convinced himself he was right, and wound himself up tighter, allowing a tendril of need to tease him. Letting out a breath, he opened the door and walked out.

* * *

Dean might be oblivious to a lot things, most of the time willfully oblivious, but he wasn’t stupid. He noticed Sam’s darker mood and bitch face right away, even before his brother’s suggestion they _just_ get coffee. Dean threw an angry glare at the closed bathroom door as his brother ushered him out of the room. Knowing the cause in his brother’s sudden change of mood immediately.

God damn it, Dad.

If their father wanted to be pissed at someone he should be pissed at _him_ not Sam. Why did the older man have to dump on his brother all the time? Habit? Well, fuck him. He wasn’t going to let their father make Sam feel like shit for no damn good reason. As far as his brother’s suggestion, well double fuck John, he could wait for them for all Dean cared.

Dean wrapped his arm comfortably around his brother’s waist and tugged the younger man close to his side in a half hug. Not really caring who saw them at the moment, before he released him.

“Get in the car.” The elder man ordered, not waiting for Sam’s answer before he went over to the driver’s side and got in. Waiting for Sam to do the same. Sure the diner was just down the street. They could walk, but they weren’t going to the diner right now and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

He waited until his brother got in the car and pulled out of the parking spot. Letting his hand come to rest comfortably on the younger man’s thigh. Caressing the firm muscles through the warm denim as he drove.

Not far, there wasn’t much in this little hick town anyway and they couldn’t go far even if he wanted to. Wanting to be back before their father became too suspicious on where they went. So Dean pulled the car into a little parking lot of what looked like an old theater, the windows all boarded up. He drove them around the back of the building out of sight, before he turned off the car and faced his brother.

“Just a quickie, I promise.” Dean said with a grin and didn’t waste any time then leaning across the seat, cupping the back of his brother’s neck to pull the younger man into a heated kiss. Licking his way into his brother’s mouth as his other hand moved up Sam’s thigh. Cupping the younger man through his jeans, stroking and squeezing.

* * *

Sam didn’t even have time to argue the order to get in the car. Staring at his brother in the car for a minute, he tugged the door open and got inside. No words were exchanged, he knew that mulish look. But where the hell did he think they were going? He didn’t even know the town. And his brother was touching his leg, sending all sorts of messages… messages that there could probably be no worse time for. Well yeah, there could be…

The next thing he knew, they’d pulled into an empty parking lot. Dean didn’t they were gonna… not out here… in broad daylight… outside… where they could easily be caught. No fucking way he was thinking it, because even his brother wasn’t that crazy.

But he was… he really was, and once Dean was holding him, kissing the hell out of him, Sam’s protests were scattered to the winds. He eagerly opened his mouth, accepting Dean’s tongue, and groaning almost painfully as he arched into Dean’s palm.

Scorching heat rushed through his veins, making him burn for more. Burn to be closer. He was on fire, and suddenly this was nowhere near enough. Twisting around and putting his arms around Dean, he practically dragged him over, needing to feel his weight… knowing they had no time. Dragging his mouth across Dean’s cheek, drawing in his intoxicating fresh scent, he whispered hoarsely in his ear. “Please… please Dean, get on me… fuck…” he was bucking his hips up and meeting only Dean’s hand. “Dean!”

* * *

Fuck. Sam was on fire. Not even giving a token protest that Dean had almost come to expect before his brother was eagerly returning his kiss, practically shoving his tongue down his throat. Not that he was about to complain. Oh hell no.

Groaning in approval when the younger man dragged him closer, palming his brother’s rock hard arousal, his own cock hard and aching inside of his own jeans in seconds. Begging for release and they’d barely even touched each other. But the desperate need burning so hot between them simply couldn’t be denied.

“Easy Sammy, I've got ya.” Dean reassured, giving the younger man’s hard flesh another squeeze before his hand slid to his brother’s hip, tugging and pulling and rearranging them both as best he could in the cramped space. Earning him a few extra bumps and bruises in his side from the steering wheel in the process and the elder man mentally noted that next time they were doing this in the back seat.

But his persistence paid off and soon he was pushing his brother back against the passenger side door, devouring his lips. Sam’s legs bent, wrapped around his waist as he knelt between them. Rolling his hips and grinding himself hard against his brother, just like Sam wanted. Even as his hand wormed its way between them.

“Get these off, now.” He groaned as he worked on unbuttoning and unzipping himself, pushing the rough denim and his underwear to bunch around his hips, before tugging at Sam’s jeans too. Needing to feel his brother’s bare skin against his.

* * *

Sam had no idea how Dean managed it, but he wasn’t wasting any time thinking on how they fit together in this narrow space. All he knew was Dean was on him and they’d be fucking each other into oblivion, just like he needed.

His brother’s command sent shivers of anticipation down his body. Nodding, he started to undo his pants, but before he was done, Dean was already free of his own jeans and tugging on Sam’s. “Dean, wait...”

There was no waiting. The instant his cock was free, Dean brought their hips together. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, hardly able to move, Sam was slowly going crazy. Lifting his hips wasn’t helping much, but when he stared to pull his knees up, he managed to press Dean down and drag him up his body. “Oh yeah.”

That was it, Dean started to fuck him. Sam used his legs to help... writhing under his brother, pawing at him, making sounds of encouragement as waves of pleasure and pain struck him, each time their cocks ground together. “So hard, so damned hard.” Sam didn’t even know if he was talking about himself or his brother, or whether he was even making sense as words broke out of him.

* * *

“Oh, Fuck, Sam…” Dean moaned, panting heavily against his brother’s neck, inhaling the younger man’s intoxicating scent deeply. In the trapped confines of the car it seemed even more potent. All he could smell was sex, Sam, and the leather interior. It was fucking amazing, and driving him wild.

Sweat and pre come eased the way only slightly as they rocked together. At least it was something or they might have rubbed off a layer of skin or two as hard as they were rutting against each other. But Dean couldn’t really bring himself to care about that slight discomfort. Nor did he really care the way his left knee was aching, bent at a slight awkward angle, not to mention how the steering wheel jammed into his hip every time he moved.

He didn’t fucking care, because Sam was underneath him, moaning his name, his brother’s cock a hot brand of steel against his stomach. He had been wanting this for so god damn long. Needing it. Needing Sam.

His teeth sank into the younger man’s collar bone, sucking a bruise into Sam’s flesh, his hands working their way up underneath his brother’s t-shirt. Fingers spreading wide over quivering muscles, petting up and down Sam’s side and back. Clutching his brother closer. Needing to touch, needing to taste, as much of that delicious skin as he could. Making his brother his all over again.

The leather beneath them creaked in protest, the windows starting to fog up a little from their panting breaths and Dean fucked against his brother harder. Rolling his hips. Spreading trails of semen across his brother’s skin.

“Come on, Sammy… That’s it… “

* * *

“Yes… yes,” Sam panted, grinding against Dean, his eyes glazed and out of focus, his mind a haze of need for his brother. By the time he felt a wetness sliding across his belly, Dean was telling him to come, reminding him they needed to be done quick. Closing his eyes, he moved with single-minded focus, meeting his brother half-way, chasing his release.

“Oh God… oh God Dean,” the pressure building low in his belly was almost unbearable. “Please… unh, unh, unh,” his movements became erratic as he became more desperate, and then just as he started to release, his knee banged into the horn. The loud sound had him struggling to sit up, but Dean held him in place, and he managed to finish… slowly sinking back, and letting his head rest against the window.

He stroked the back of Dean’s head and forced his eyes open. “Next time you come up with a harebrained idea like fucking in a parking lot, in broad day light, in the front seat… remind me to say NO.” He laughed, mostly at himself, under his breath. He nudged his hips up, still rubbing slowly against his brother, even now that the urgency was gone.

* * *

The sounds his brother was making, desperate, needy sounds. The way Sam moaned his name, begging him, as he neared his release was driving him wild and suddenly all he could think about was being inside of the younger man again. Filling him up with his cock, how hot and tight Sam would feel around him. Those same pleasure filled moans filling his ears as he thrust deeply into his brother. The younger man’s body rocking underneath the force he would claim him, and begging for more.

“Oh fuck, Sam. Fuck…” Dean grunted, gritting his teeth with a near growl as he came hard across his brother’s stomach.

He heard the sound of the horn, but he didn’t give a damn. In fact he wouldn’t have given a damn if their father had been outside the car right at that moment demanding they stop. Sam was his and the rest of the world could go fuck themselves for all he cared.

Holding the younger man down in place, Dean moaned into his brother’s neck as he continued to spurt thick ropes of spunk across his brother’s hard muscled stomach. Feeling the hot splash of Sam’s seed against his own skin only making him grind against the younger man harder. Drawing out their pleasure as long as he could. The smell of their mingled semen almost overpowering in the closed space.

Jerking one last time in the aftershock of climax, he finally relaxed practically boneless on top of his brother, not really caring how uncomfortable it might be in the cramped space. Making a sound suspiciously like a purr the way his brother’s fingers pet him. Letting his own fingers drift slowly along the younger man’s sweat dampened skin of his thighs and buttocks.

“Why the hell would I want to do that?” Dean finally asked as he lifted his head with a smirk. Forcing himself to untangle from his brother even though it was really the last thing he wanted to do, but he’d promised, just a quickie. He looked down at his brother, who looked thoroughly debauched, sprawled across the seat, resting against the passenger side door of his car. His jeans hanging around his hips, his cock resting flaccid, come drying on his stomach, his face flushed, and his hair a mess.

“Do you have any idea how hot you look right now?” He asked in near awe, licking his lips, as he gazed down at the younger man as though trying to burn the image into his memory.

* * *

“Only if you’re a horn dog,” Sam gave a shy smile, and looked away as he tried to regain control over his limbs and arrange himself back on the passenger side. After everything they’d done, that a stupid compliment should have him flustered...

He reached into the dash and pulled out a variety of paper napkins, from all the places Dean had stopped to eat at. Some things didn’t change. Passing some to his brother, he started to clean himself up.

“You should stop staring at me, and start driving.” He glanced under his lashes at his brother to confirm he’d guessed right. “Dean.” Unable to help himself, he leaned over and kissed him lightly, and pulled back. “Drive.”

* * *

Dean grinned at his brother’s comment as though Sam had just given him a compliment. Taking the paper napkins he was offered and cleaning himself off, though he didn’t really need to do much. Sam had gotten the ‘worst’ of it. So it only took him a minute to wipe up, tuck himself away and pull his jeans back into place.

After he was done, he watched Sam. Couldn’t seem to help it really, and he didn’t really care that he was openly staring at his brother. Only smiling again when Sam mentioned it, accepting the soft brief kiss with a small moan, before he sighed and nodded. Reluctantly turning his attention away from his brother as he started the car back up, but allowing his hand to once more come to rest comfortably on the younger man’s thigh as he drove.

Another minute and they pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Dad’s truck wasn’t there, but to be honest Dean hadn’t been worried. Was sure the older man probably wasn’t even out of the shower yet.

He got out of the car, stretching his cramped muscles and rubbing the sore spot on his thigh where he’d banged it several times against the steering wheel, though he couldn’t stop grinning.

“Next time though? Back seat. You’re too much of a damn Sasquatch to fit in the front.” Dean remarked cheekily, giving his brother’s ass a good pinch as they walked through the door of the diner.

* * *

“Right, cause you’re a tiny little kewpie doll,” he moved away, giving Dean a grumpy look and making sure there was no one behind them to see the fondling. Where the hell was dad, anyway? He didn’t like the fact that the truck wasn’t around. What if he’d gone after them… what the hell were they going to say about where they’d been?

He followed Dean inside, stopping in the doorway to first take a sweeping look of the tables inside, then look behind him outside again. Nothing . Sighing, he caught up to his brother who had already slipped into a booth. Sliding in across from him, he muttered his coffee order.

“Well I know which of you is Happy, and which of you is Grumpy,” the sassy waitress said, walking away.

“Did she just call me Happy,” Sam asked, looking dead serious, even though he was looking in his brother’s beaming face. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Dean was about to break out in song, or at least whistle a cheery tune.

* * *

Dean raised an eyebrow at the waitress as she walked away and then rolled his eyes at his brother’s sarcastic remark. God, what the hell? Only Sammy could go from orgasm to bitch face in less than five minutes flat.

While Dean already knew that nothing could kill an afterglow like their dad, from being caught years ago bringing girls back to their motel rooms by their father, John wasn’t even here right now, and his brother was sitting across from him wound up tight enough to snap. As though their father would suddenly magically appear in a tirade with photographs, not to mention a porn video, of them fucking, or something.

“Come on, Sammy. Will you relax just a little?” He asked as he reached across the table, grasping his brother’s wrist in a gentle grip. The elder man’s thumb drawing small circles along Sam’s pulse point, feeling how hard the younger man’s heart was pounding.

“You know, most people are a little happier after I’ve had sex with them. I’m beginning to think I’m losing my touch, here.” Dean pouted.

* * *

Looking down at Dean’s fingers curled around his wrist, Sam licked his lips and looked up into his brother’s eyes. “Dean, please?” He slowly pulled away, and took a long breath.

“I’m not grumpy. I’m just _sane._ There’s a difference,” he shook his head, but couldn’t help giving a small laugh. “Not that you would ever know it.” Yeah, sometimes he wished he could be more like Dean.

He just had to stop himself from feeling like everything he did or said would give him away, or that his dad would see right through all of this. Acting guilty would only draw suspicion.

The coffee arrived and he was soon taking his first sip. “Better get your fill. I have a feeling dad’s going to put us to work.” Sam was looking forward to it, he wanted to make headway, but he was a little worried about Dean getting cabin fever again. “We could, maybe go out for a while in the afternoon.” Seeing the gleam in Dean’s eyes, he added, “Not for _that_. Just saying...”

* * *

Dean let the younger man’s wrist slip from his fingers without a complaint. Sighing softly, but letting it go for now. Knowing how hard this was for Sam.

But hell, he wondered if his brother realized just how hard this was for him too? It’s not like he was dealing very well with the whole werewolf thing… Last night, before Dad got there, was evidence of that. And even though they’d talked about it, briefly, it wasn’t as though it was something that Sam could really understand. The changes he could feel happening inside of him. How much he’d changed already. How much he was going to change…

Then there was the whole fucking his baby brother thing. It was actually easier when he didn’t think too heavily on it. Despite how eager and willing Sam seemed, he couldn’t help but feel he’d pushed this on Sam and his brother was just going with it to appease him. To keep him from going crazy or something. That it wasn’t what Sam really wanted. Hell, how could anyone really want _this_. It was beyond fucked up and they both knew it.

Having to deal with both with Dad around… yeah ok… maybe he wasn’t acting all that sane right now. He was barely holding it together, and he was only really holding it together right now because of Sam. He needed Sam so damn much right now, it was scary. Dean didn’t know what he would do if anything happened to his brother. All he knew was it wouldn’t be pretty, for anyone.

“You boys ready to order?” The waitress asked when she came back over, taking out her pad and a pen from behind her ear.

Dean forced himself out of his thoughts. Sitting back, letting his leg slide against his brother’s underneath the table, as he took a long drink from his coffee. Glad that it was good coffee this time at least. Sometimes it was hit and miss with these places, even though the extra dose of caffeine was always welcome.

“Yeah, I’ll have the special. Eggs scrambled with an extra side of bacon and sausage.” Dean said after taking a brief glance at the menu board. Grinning at his brother when the younger man suggested they go out later. Even as his brother quickly added not for _that_ letting his eyes rake over his brother’s body, leering and not bothering to hide it. At least until the diner door opened and their father strode in, and Dean let his expression shift to a much more neutral one.

The older man spotted them immediately and came over.

“Hey dad.” Dean said, receiving a nod from their father as he slid out of his side of the booth to sit next to Sam instead so that John could sit across from them. If Dean sat a little closer to his brother than he needed to, letting his leg brush boldly up against the younger man’s he pretended not to notice.

* * *

Sam squirmed under the heated look Dean was giving him, as he casually ordered his breakfast. Flustered, he couldn’t think, so he just said he’d take the same thing as Dean ordered. Then he saw his father, and sucked in a breath, quickly hiding his reaction by picking up his cup and taking a drink.

“Dad.” Sam started to slide over to give room to his brother who’d suddenly forgotten that thing called personal space. Strangely, right now he didn’t mind the press of Dean’s thigh, it was comforting in a way.

He dry scrubbed his face as their dad put in an order and then looked at them. Okay, the whole world didn’t come crashing down on them, and their father wasn’t pointing any fingers, it was gonna be fine. Maybe. If his dad didn’t bring last night up again. He had the feeling he wouldn’t, but if he did... No, he wasn’t going to be negative.

“Coffee’s pretty good.” He paused. “Dad, where’s your truck?”

* * *

John nodded thanks to the waitress when she brought him a mug and filled his coffee, refilling Dean’s and Sam’s at the same time while she was there. The elder man took a drink before answering his son’s question.

“I took it to the garage down the street. I noticed a problem with the suspension on the way here and I don’t have time to work on it right now.” Their father said and Dean frowned a little. Knowing how much his dad hated anyone else working on his car.

“Nothing serious?” Dean asked.

“I don’t think so.” John said, shaking his head, staring at Dean in a way that made him understand a little bit better why Sam was so jumpy all the time when their father was around. The three men settling into an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

Dean cleared his throat.

“So… this guy we’re looking for? What do we know?” Dean finally asked, settling on what he hoped was the least awkward topic of conversation for all of them.

“His name is David Conall, at least that’s the name he was using the last time he was seen in Utah, five years ago. The people I talked to said he kept to himself most of the time, only came into town about once a month for supplies. He sometimes offered his services as a medicine man to the local tribes. When I asked around there, they were the ones who mentioned him suffering from the bite of the ‘wolf spirit’ and how he’d cured himself of the curse. But it wasn’t long after that, he disappeared.”

* * *

“David Conall,” Sam repeated, committing the name to memory. “I know you got people on it, but I’ll start trying to trace him too. There’s gotta be something. And a guy like that, someone who offers services, why would he just sit on a secret cure.” That didn’t make sense. “I mean I get he wouldn’t advertise, but I bet he leaves a calling card somewhere... for someone who is desperate.”

Desperate like them. He leaned back as the plates were placed on the table, groaning at the amount in front of him. Sam all but willed the waitress away. “Dean, didn’t you have a contact at that reservation, that guy we met up with that time we sneaked off and...” he trailed off, feeling the weight of his father’s gaze. “It was years ago,” he said in self defense. They’d been tired of being cooped up and Dean had been invited to a pow wow. Good times.

“Anyway, didn’t he say he kept records of all medicine men and was collecting information about plants, cures, you name it? Maybe he’s heard of this guy? If they guy dealt with tribes or maybe even was a member or one? You should call him.”

* * *

Dean was more than happy when the food finally arrived. So it would give him something else to do rather than sit here listening and trying not to make faces or make some other comment while his dad and brother discussed their wild goose chase. It was all he could do to hold his tongue and not point out the fact that maybe the guy had been sitting on this miraculous cure of his because it didn’t exist in the first place. Or that maybe the guy had dropped off the face of the earth so completely because he was already dead…

Either way, they were probably wasting their time chasing after this ‘ghost’ but he didn’t really feel like getting the evil eye from either man right now, so he kept silent. Shoveling eggs into his mouth, until Sam finally addressed him, forcing him to join in on the conversation whether he wanted to or not.

He knew exactly who his brother was talking about, and Dean couldn’t help but smile at the memory despite the look on their father’s face.

“Yeah, Joe Windtalker. Guess it’s worth a shot.” Dean agreed with a shrug. Sometimes it was easier to agree than argue, and Joe was cool. He wouldn’t mind getting a call from Dean, even if it led to a dead end.

“All right. Good. We’ll get started when we get back to the room.” John said. Though Dean could tell his father wasn’t all that happy, he wouldn’t turn down help from a legitimate contact. Even if he didn’t like how that contact had been made.

* * *

Despite the weight of their father’s look, Sam smiled. He liked the fact that Dean had gotten involved, it was exactly what his brother needed. As they ate, and planned their research strategies, Sam made an effort to make sure Dean had plenty to do. When they were our hunting evil things, Dean always knew exactly what to research. His hunches usually turned out right. Right now, when he was the subject of the research, it was a bit different, and Sam would just take up the slack a little.

Both his father and Dean were shrewd by nature. If either of them saw through his strategy, neither of them said anything. Maybe it was to keep the peace... which was always fragile, or maybe they just agreed. Whatever... Sam was happy.

By the time breakfast was over, Sam was surprised to see he’d matched Dean... eaten almost everything on his plate. Sensing Dean look at him, Sam’s gaze narrowed in warning... knowing his brother, he was dying to take credit for exercising him so hard, he’d worked up an appetite, or something stupid like that.

Dad stayed a minute to wait for changed, but Sam followed Dean out of the booth and they headed for the room. “His name is ‘Windtalker?’ Jerk... I remember, you told me Windfucker and tried to get me to call him that. Good thing I wasn’t that drunk.” A smile curved his mouth, as they reached their room and he unlocked their door, pushing it open.

* * *

“It’s not my fault you’re so damn gullible.” Dean couldn’t help but laugh as he followed his brother into their motel room.

He’d almost forgotten about that. Oh, man had he been drunk that night. Way too much whiskey combined with whatever the hell they’d put into those pipes he’d taken a few inhales off of had made him so tipsy Sam had to practically carry him back to their motel room afterwards. He’d had the worst hangover of his life the next day, but still, those had been some good times. It was amazing he even remembered the guy’s name.

Once the door shut behind them, Dean couldn’t resist wrapping his arms around his brother’s waist from behind even knowing they only had a couple minutes at best before their dad joined them. Burying his face against the younger man’s neck and inhaling deeply. Groaning low in his throat.

“Mmmm we need to figure out a way to get rid of dad. Just for a couple hours. Just long enough so I can fuck you slow and hard through the mattress and get it out of my system.”

* * *

Sam gave a soft laugh, and put his hands over his brother’s, turning slightly. “You’re such a tease.” He was pretty sure Dean was trying to get him going, now that he knew what dirty talk did to him. “You know, you already went two rounds in two hours, if you’d just stop purposely thinking about it you wouldn’t be so horny. And don’t…” he gave him a look and broke free, turning, “torture me. I need to concentrate now, and so do you.”

He walked across the room and started to set up his lap top. “You need a cell phone. Maybe later, or tomorrow, we can go get you one. That should take us a few… hours.” Course now that Dean had placed the thought of fucking in his mind, it was going to eat him up too. “But not here.” That he was firm on, there was no way he could relax enough to… just thinking dad could walk in anytime would make it impossible for him to enjoy it.

* * *

Dean sighed softly in disappointment when his brother twisted out of his embrace though he couldn’t help but smile a little when Sam called him a tease.

Maybe he was, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He just couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of his brother. Couldn’t stop thinking about kissing and touching and fucking him even after, as Sam put it, he’d already gone two rounds already in less than two hours.

Sure his brother had accused him before about being something of a man slut given the string of one night stands he left behind him everywhere they went. What could he say? He liked sex, and he really liked great sex, and sex with Sam was great.

But still, even given that, it was just a little unnatural just how horny he was all the time. His body ached for Sam in ways he’d never really experienced before, at least, not to this degree. Was it because of the whole wolf mating thing? Or was it because it was Sam, his brother, not some random chick? His brother who he loved, needed, more than anything else in this world…

Dean sat down on their bed, watching his brother as the younger man sat up the laptop. Smiling a little at Sam’s idea, giving them a legitimate reason to go out for several hours and be alone together, until a sudden thought made him frown. A question burning in his mind he simply couldn’t ignore even knowing this wasn’t the time to talk about this. Not when their dad could walk into the room any second.

“Sam… When Cassandra… when she said I’d come back to her, sniffing around her in heat… Do you think she meant it literally? What if I’m just…” He couldn’t even say it. What if everything he felt for Sam right now had nothing to do with his feelings at all, and was only hormones or something?

* * *

For a long moment, Sam was quiet. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t run the same questions through his mind in those quiet moments. He just hadn’t thought Dean would ask them this soon since he wasn’t one to analyze feelings and such.

He licked his lips. “I’ve wondered about that too. I mean if it’s just the hormones and we find the cure, you’ll probably…” He brushed the hair out of his eyes. “I dunno, you might have to push me off your leg a few times. It’ll be alright.”

Looking back at Dean and seeing his very serious expression, he added. “You know, there’s a lot of scientific material out there that says love is all about chemicals… hormones… reactions. I’ve had this discussion plenty of times with…“ he blinked, “… anyway, my opinion is it’s probably a combination of hormones and other things that can’t be quantified or seen.”

Still, his brother was looking at him for answers. “About us. I don’t know what it is Dean. It came out of left field, and we haven’t had hardly any time to process it. To talk about it, and now…” he nodded toward the door. “Whatever happens, wherever it shakes out, we’ll figure it out, okay? One step at a time.”

* * *

Dean took little comfort in Sam’s attempt to lighten the mood with his joke about humping his leg. Nor did he take any comfort in his brother’s reassurances that it would be ‘all right’ once they found this ‘miracle cure’. If it even existed. As if everything would just somehow go back to normal… as normal as it could possibly be for them anyway. Like they could both just forget. If all the things he felt for his brother were nothing more than just god damn wolf hormones or something… that they would just vanish if he were somehow cured.

God, as though things couldn’t get even more fucked up, why did he have to start thinking about this now? Why hadn’t he before? Would it have stopped him? Could he have somehow stopped himself if he knew before hand that what he was feeling… what he thought he felt for his brother… was just…

It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t… he wanted to believe so badly it wasn’t just the damn wolf venom in his blood making him want his brother this way, but what other reason was there? He had never had these feelings for Sam before. Never wanted to touch him, kiss him, fuck him…

He _shouldn’t_ want this. He shouldn’t feel so god damn… devastated… by the idea alone that if this god damn cure actually existed that along with the wolf in his blood every other wrong thing he felt would also vanish. Except, nothing in his life, even before the werewolves, had ever felt so right…

Fuck.

Dean sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. He knew Sam was right. One step at a time. It was all they could really do, but he was quickly running out of time. He only had two more weeks until the full moon. He had to know now.

“Do you hope it goes away?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

* * *

“Dean!” Sam gave him an exasperated look. “How can I answer that right now? It’s so damned complicated, and we don’t have the time to...” His brother’s expression had him trailing off. “I...”

Getting up, he strode across the room and standing in front of Dean, hugged him so Dean’s face was leaning against his stomach. In a way, it was like walking on eggshells, talking to Dean. He was afraid to set him off. Afraid he’d lose him again. Holding him... it affirmed he was still here, still with him.

“Sorry. I like to think things through. You’re asking me a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question and there should be so many ‘maybe’s’ in there.” He glanced at the door, and then down. “I wish it hadn’t happened, I wish nothing changed. But it did, alright? And I’m not dumb enough to think everything goes back to the way it was if you’re cured and it takes away your... new feelings, you know?”

He swallowed, stroking Dean’s back. “Do I hope it just goes away? I don’t know. I really really don’t. If it went away, _you’d_ probably be better off. I don’t see how it would change anything for me, but I’d deal with it. There’s stuff I have to deal with either way, and you too.”

He eased down onto the bed, still holding Dean. “I don’t even know what _this_ is I’m feeling. You’re my brother, I’ve always loved you. Do I love you the same and just want to have sex with you? Did it change into some other kind or lo... I dunno. I feel closer, but hell... it’s...” he swallowed again. “When you’re near me, it feels right. But when I’m alone, or when I think on it, I know it’s wrong in a million ways.”

Sam let out a breath. “Dean. What about you? Do you hope it goes away?”

* * *

Dean started a bit by Sam’s initial reaction. It wasn’t really the response he’d been expecting/hoping for, though in hindsight it shouldn’t have surprised him. His brother was right, after all. This wasn’t a conversation they could or should be having right now and he was an idiot to even bring it up. Not to mention this whole emo, lets share our feelings, was more of Sam’s routine. What the hell was he thinking?

The elder man shook his head, about to tell Sam he was right and they should just forget about it, but he suddenly found himself in his brother’s arms. Without thought his arms wrapped securely around the younger man’s waist and he pressed his face against his brother’s stomach, closing his eyes.

Though he couldn’t help tensing a little when Sam admitted that he wished this had never happened between them. That he wished nothing had changed.

Of course. What _sane_ person would ever want this?

But the admission still caused a tight ball of pain to form in his throat. Because Sam had tried so hard to convince him that he _had_ wanted it. That Dean hadn’t all but raped his baby brother. Maybe that was true. Maybe Sam did want it. But he still wished it hadn’t happened… and all the reasoning in the world didn’t erase the hurt or guilt he felt for pushing his brother into this.

He didn’t know whether to feel comforted or not that Sam seemed just as confused as he was right now about all this. It felt right to him too. Every time they touched. Every time they kissed. He never felt so good in his life. Never, and he didn’t care how wrong it was.

But what if it was all a lie? Dean swallowed hard against the lump of emotion in his throat. Hugging his brother a little tighter to him. He… didn’t want to lose this feeling. He almost couldn’t bear the thought of it simply vanishing one day in a puff of smoke.

Dean sighed softly when his brother posed the same question to him. Sam said he didn’t know, and he didn’t want his answer to affect his brother’s decision. But he had to answer honestly. Sam deserved that much at least.

“I… don’t want it to go away. Everything else is so fucked up right now… this is the only thing that feels right to me, and I don’t even know if it’s real or not…”

* * *

The way Dean clung to him, held him so tight, like he needed him or like he was his rock totally humbled Sam. Dean hardly ever showed this side of himself. Whether it was the wolf thing or not, it was a big deal.

“I know.” Sam tightened his grip, wishing they had twenty four hours alone. Wishing they could talk, maybe figure out some stuff or figure out what it was that could not be figured out versus the things they had answers on. But he knew damn well tomorrow, or even just an hour from now, Dean could revert to Mr. No-chick flick moments.

Cupping the side of his face, he started to lean down to kiss him when the heavy sound of boots outside brought him to his senses. “Talk more later,” he hissed, releasing Dean and crossing the room just as the door opened.

“What took so long?” Sam asked over his shoulder, trying to divert his dad’s attention to himself. “Everything okay?” At his dad’s curt nod, Sam sat down and started the process of tracking down a needle in a haystack. He was gonna find that needle.... or dad or Dean would, but they were gonna get this right. They were gonna make Dean right.

He glanced under his lashes at his brother, then threw him his cell. “Call that Windfuc... erm, your guy Joe.”

* * *

Dean sighed a little in regret when Sam pulled away from him so suddenly, but he quickly schooled his expression when their dad walked into the room. Though he couldn’t quite stop the slight wince he made when Sam asked their dad so bluntly what had taken the older man so long. If his brother kept this up, kept grilling their father about where he was and what he was doing all the time the older man was going to start to get suspicious and that really was the last thing they needed.

Their father thankfully seemed too preoccupied with getting started on their research to say anything about it this time. Simply nodding to Sam that everything was fine as he went over to his bag. Pulling out his journal and some other papers, and grabbing up his phone. The older man laying out his things on his bed since Sam was taking up the only table in the room currently.

Dean caught the cell phone that his brother threw him though he couldn’t stop the snort of laughter at Sam’s near slip on Joe’s name. His father noticing, of course, looking up briefly from what he was doing with a raised eyebrow at both young men, and Dean shook his head, still fighting not to outright laugh.

“Long story. You don’t want to know.” Dean explained, chuckling a little in spite of himself and their father rolled his eyes like he normally did when he thought his sons were behaving immaturely but was in a good enough mood he didn’t feel like berating them at the moment.

For the next three hours they worked pretty much nonstop. Sam on his laptop and John and Dean on the phone. Their father getting updates from his contacts searching for this David Conall guy while Dean tried to get a hold of Joe. Unfortunately Joe wasn’t around and Dean had to leave a message with the guy’s wife to have him call him back so all he could do now really was sit and wait.

“I may have something.” John announced suddenly out of the blue as he hung up his phone got up. Bringing the papers that he’d been working on, one of which was a map, over to the table where Sam was working and laying them out. Dean got up and moved over as well, trying hard to stamp down the small flicker of hope that his father’s words had produced in his chest in spite of himself. It could be absolutely nothing after all…

“A hunter working a job down in New Mexico said about a year ago he came in contact with a man that fits Conall’s description. Traded him some rather powerful medicine bags apparently, but he hasn’t been back to the area since, so he doesn’t know if he’s still there. I still think it’s worth checking out. Here, in Los Alamos.”

* * *

His father’s announcement had Sam’s head jerking up with a start. Oh God, if only this went right for them. This one thing, if they could save Dean from becoming a werewolf, he knew they could beat anything else that was thrown at them. Anything.

He glanced up at the two men who came over, and then looked at the map. It would take a couple days drive to get there. “Definitely worth checking out. Los Alamos isn’t a big area, might not be so tough to find him or get some information,” he nodded. It beat a metropolitan area, that was for damned sure.

“It’s possible he’s wanted by the Feds.” He felt their gazes on him and shook his head. “I didn’t say anything because I haven’t confirmed it’s really him. Thing of it is, this guy robbed two pharmaceutical companies. Could be a connection, or might not be.”

He turned his lap top around to show them a man's picture on the FBI’s wanted list. “David O’Connall,” he shrugged, and looked to his father for comment. One the one hand, it seemed to him someone like Connall would stick to natural medicines. On the other... maybe he needed something that wasn't easy to find.

* * *

John raised an eyebrow and nodded as Sam showed him what he’d found. Impressed in spite of himself as he looked at the man’s picture on his son’s laptop. David O’Connall certainly fit the description that he had been given in Utah. Though if the man was wanted by the FBI that could pose significant problems for them.

“This would certainly explain why Conall dropped off the map five years ago.” John said as he read over the information the FBI had on O’Connall. “Five years ago, that’s when the thefts took place. It’s possible the thefts were tied into the cure somehow. We’ll have to be even more careful, we don’t want to draw the attention of the feds if they’re looking for him too.”

Their father finally said a little unnecessarily but Dean nodded in agreement. They certainly didn’t need that shit storm on top of everything else right now.

“So what now?” Dean asked, looking away from the laptop to his father.

“Sam, can you send this photo to my cell phone? I’ll forward it to my contacts. One of us needs to go to Los Alamos, it’s doubtful that Conall is still there but someone might have information on where he went from there. Sam could take the Impala while we keep trying to get a firmer lead…”

Dean was with his father right up until the end when he said that _Sam_ would go, and did a double take.

“What do you mean Sam will go? Alone? Why!” Dean demanded, his eyes narrowing a little and it was John’s turn to look a bit taken aback. Even though he’d half been expecting such a reaction, he’d expected it from Sam, not from Dean. His older son not one to question him like his younger son normally did.

* * *

“Sure dad,” Sam turned away and proceeded to email the photograph to his father. The timing seemed right, that was something. This really could be the guy. And was that a look of approval on his father’s face? He wasn’t sure, but the absence of disapproval had him smiling to himself. Not that he had anything to prove to his father.

Then his dad was suggesting a trip to check out Los Alamos and Sam was nodding his head. When his father suggested that he should take the Impala, Sam was on the verge of agreeing when old fears of what his father might be capable of if he felt it was necessary surfaced.

Then Dean was grilling his dad, and Sam got up and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Dean,” he said softly in warning. “Maybe we should all go. Keep together,” Sam suggested, praying his dad would just agree rather than take this as a challenge of his authority. That usually lead to arguments, and their father had yet to see Dean in a rage since he’d been bitten.

* * *

John frowned, looking back and forth between his two sons.

Dean continued glaring at him as he waited for his father's answer and Sam had his hand on his brother's shoulder as though to calm him. Or restrain him. Restrain him from what? Attacking him? A day ago John would have thought the very idea absurd but after having seen his two boys fighting over a loaded weapon, both of them bruised and bloodied…

Again John couldn't help but wonder what else Dean had done that Sam hadn't told him about. What had led to Dean trying to kill himself? There had to be a reason… Had he tried to attack his brother? Someone else? How the hell were they supposed to keep him under control if they couldn't and it wasn't even the full moon?

The older man shook his head at Sam's suggestion.

"It's too dangerous. I've been searching for Dean for months and all my contacts know it. I've got too many people on the look for Conall now. We're already running the risk of some hunter putting two and two together, and if Dean is actually seen…" John shook his head again, not even wanting to think about the possibility of other hunters going after his own son. If protecting Dean meant killing other hunters…

"So your answer is for Sam to go off alone looking for this Conall guy while we sit here on our asses? Yeah that makes a lot of sense, Dad." Dean replied angrily, ignoring the warning look he was getting from his father. He didn't give a shit. He wasn't going to let their dad send his brother off to the middle of nowhere where anything could happen to him. "What if this Conall guy isn't too friendly? We already know he's on the run from someone or something. Guys like that aren't exactly the chatty type, more like the blow a hole in your head and ask questions later type. Or what if whoever's looking for Conall gets wind that Sam's looking for him and nabs him instead? Huh? Ever think of that?"

* * *

Sam hated agreeing with his dad, but his father had a good point. Dean had to be kept safe from other hunters, at all costs. Some of them were so damned fanatical… something that Sam often though his father too might be guilty of … they’d go after Dean with no questions asked. Being pitted against them would be different than facing things that went bump in the dark. The choices would be tougher. No, the choice would be the same, the ramifications to them would be worse.

Before he could chime in with his thoughts, Dean went off on their father, raising his voice and ignoring Sam’s warning. “Dean…” Sam tried again, but his brother wasn’t having it. As he searched for something to say to calm him, Dean launched into another tirade. One that pretty much colored him like a doofus, and got him all fired up.

“I am not gonna get caught. Stop making it sound like I’m stumbling around not knowing what I’m doing,” Sam said, pushing Dean. “I went into that mansion and got you out, I think I can handle some hunter. I’m not a kid anymore, Dean.”

Damn him. If it wasn’t his dad making him feel like an idiot who knew nothing, it was Dean. And neither of them ever thought he had any feelings. His eyes grew steely and his jaw ached as he gritted his teeth. “I’ll do it. I’ll find him, you can count on me.”

* * *

John Winchester was about as close to seeing red as he ever was. Usually it was only Sam who could push his buttons like this, and he had to wonder if his elder son had been taking lessons from his brother over the few days he’d been gone or something.

Before he could say anything however, Sam was arguing with Dean and agreeing with his father, stunning him enough that John actually did a double take. The older man couldn’t help but wonder if they’d fallen into the Twilight Zone sometime during the night, or perhaps he should test both his son’s for possession because neither one of them were exactly acting like themselves.

Dean’s anger abruptly shifted focus when his brother shoved him, and he turned around, literally growling at the younger man. Irrationally furious and he wasn’t even sure why. But just the thought of Sam leaving him… he spoke without thinking.

“This coming from the one who got caught by a couple of werewolves coming out of the bathroom! I’m not letting you go alone, damn it!” Dean immediately regretted his words for several reasons. Especially when he heard his father immediately chime in.

“What?! God damn it, when did this happen!”

* * *

Sam felt the blood drain from his face the instant his brother betrayed him. Years of getting each others’ backs, protecting each others’ secrets, covering up the things their father might not understand had trained him to believe that’s how it would always be. This was like a slap in his face. Worse.

His eyes glittered, his jaw tensing to breaking point as he stared at his brother. Dean knew he hadn’t wanted to be out there _that_ night. He’d gone out because Dean was bouncing off the damned walls. He’d thought it was a way to stop him from trying to kill himself, he’d promised an outing after they’d both almost lost their lives on that bridge. And the drinking that had him off his game… for Dean.

And now it was all Sam’s fault. One look at his father’s face was enough for him to know there was no way… no way to explain how he had felt he had no other choice but to go against his dad’s instructions and go to a bar. His dad hadn’t been there on the bridge. Hadn’t looked down into Dean’s face, hadn’t struggled against him, and hadn’t almost lost him. Nah, he wouldn’t get it at all.

And Sam wouldn’t tell him. Brothers didn’t do that to each other. At least this brother didn’t.

Tearing his distinctly hostile gaze away from Dean, he looked at his dad for a minute, then down at his feet. He gave an abbreviated version of the story. They’d gone to get a drink. He’d been ambushed in the parking lot. They’d wanted Dean to join the pack. Dean had pulled his weapon, and they’d gotten out of the mess. Stolen a car… he trailed of, though he remembered only too well the drunken kisses. Being forced against the door so hard it hurt. The slamming of the door, shutting out the world.

Blinking away the memories, he swallowed. “That has nothing to do with this. We all know there’s danger from all sides, hunters, werewolves… it’s something we live with every day.” He’d walked away from it… this life, but he was in it again, neck deep. That was how it was. “We have a problem to solve, and sitting around paralyzed because something might happen to one of us... that’s not gonna help.” Lifting his chin, he gave Dean a ‘back off’ look and squared his shoulders, ready to battle his dad if necessary.

* * *

The way Sam was looking at him, seeing the hurt he’d caused written so clearly on the younger man’s face, made Dean feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest, and it was all his god damned fault. He hadn’t meant to say it, really had hadn’t. He hadn’t meant to hurt Sam, fuck, that was the last thing he ever wanted. It had just come out, without thinking…

The possibility of Sam getting hurt, and no one there to back him up was terrifying enough. But just the thought of his brother leaving without him… leaving him behind, even for a few days, was enough to drive him insane. He couldn’t stand it. Sam couldn’t leave him. He just couldn’t. Dean felt like he would do anything to stop him. Anything…

Even when the last thing he’d ever tried to do was to get his brother in trouble with their father. Hell, Dean usually went out of his way to keep Sam from being blamed for anything in John’s eyes, since the older man for some reason did that enough himself. And now their father was glaring at Sam, and the last look his brother gave him before looking away twisted his heart just a little more painfully.

He listened as Sam told the shortened version of how the werewolves had found them. Of course leaving out the part Dean had played leading his brother to make that choice. For him. To make him happy… and he’d just thrown it back in his brother’s teeth.

_I’m sorry…_ Dean wanted to beg his brother’s forgiveness. Kiss him, hold him. He’d get on his knees if he had to, but he could hardly do any of those things with their father standing right here in the room.

Dean could almost feel their father gearing up to lay into the younger man and Dean turned to face the older man. Practically putting himself in between his father and brother before he could begin.

“What happened wasn’t Sam’s fault, it was mine. You want to be pissed off at someone, be pissed off at me. I was going crazy… after everything… I couldn’t handle it. We had an argument… and I tried to jump off a bridge. I would have gone splat if it weren’t for Sam.” Dean said, wincing a little at the look of pain mixed with horror that crossed his Dad’s face listening to him talk so carelessly about killing himself, but he continued. “Sam took me to the bar the next day, trying to help me feel human again, trying to help me stay sane.”

Dean glanced back at his brother briefly.

“He does keep me sane…” He said softly before looking back at his father. “You want me to lay low? I will. You want Sam to go? Fine. But I’m going with my brother, and you can’t stop me.”

For a long time John Winchester could only stare at his son’s, stunned speechless. He’d honestly thought that trying to separate the two young men would have been best for Dean. Thinking, foolishly apparently, that he could handle his older son better than his brother could. The last few minutes had just proved him dead wrong. The mere suggestion had unbalanced Dean. What if he tried to force Dean to stay here without Sam and it drove him to try to kill himself again? What if he couldn’t stop his son this time? He looked between Dean and Sam a moment more before he finally dry scrubbed his face with his hand and sighed heavily.

“As soon as my truck is repaired, I’m going to go to Los Alamos. You two will stay here and keep looking for leads.” John said in a way that Dean knew meant there would be absolutely no further arguments or their dad would start literally cracking heads. With that, their father grabbed up his papers from the table and phone, and went back over to his bed. Dean could only assume he was now forwarding Conall’s picture to everyone he already had looking for the man and continuing checking with his other contacts.

Effectively ending the discussion.

Dean knew there was no way this discussion was over. Just postponed. He also knew he was not looking forward to when it would be picked up again.

* * *

Sam felt his dad’s temperature rising and prepared himself for a shouting match. Whatever part of the admissions his dad latched onto and reamed him for, he wasn’t sure what the hell he could say in his own defense. Yeah, he’d put his brother in danger. Yeah, he’d put himself in danger, been drunk, and got caught. What the fuck was he supposed to say in his defense?

Sam blinked in surprise when Dean moved in front of him, as if to protect him from their dad. Which… was ridiculous, because Dean usually sided with dad or told them both to knock it off.

Then Dean was spilling the rest of the story, and Sam had no idea why. As if telling their old man why they were in the bar in the first place made anything better. Sure, it might mean their dad would be less angry with him for taking Dean there, but it changed nothing… he’d been caught by godamned werewolves. That had been Dean’s point, and it had been made too well. It was probably ingrained in his dad’s mind forever.

When his brother paused to look over at him, Sam refused to meet his eyes. He was too angry. Too hurt. And he couldn’t even vent freely, because he was afraid of what he might say. How he might slip. Maybe say something that would clue his dad into what had been going on. Or say something that set Dean off more. It was like walking a fucking line, and right now, Sam couldn’t take it.

When his dad laid down his order, Sam’s nostrils flared. A half hour ago, the decision would have thrilled him. Would have thrilled Dean too. Now, it just meant his dad saw him exactly how Dean had painted him. Just confirmed his old perceptions.

Feeling his eyes stinging, Sam crossed the room and got his jacket off the bed. Without another word, he stalked to the door and was out of it, slamming it behind him, clearly signaling he did not want company. Rubbing his forehead for a moment, he looked across the parking lot and headed for the diner.

* * *

The motel room door slammed and Sam was gone.

Again.

Just like his brother had stormed out last night. Just like that night on the bridge when Sam had stormed away from him after their argument in the diner. Just like years ago when the younger man had left, their family, the hunt… him, behind…

He was becoming all too familiar with the crushing feeling of despair that slammed into him every time Sam slammed the door. Why didn’t it get any easier every time it happened then?

Dean stood, practically rooted in place, staring at the door for a long time before he finally looked at his father. The older man steadfastly ignoring him, ignoring the fact that Sam was gone… yeah… all too familiar.

Well. Fuck that.

As Dean grabbed his own coat and headed for the door his father finally looked up from what he was doing. He could feel the elder man’s stare boring holes into his back but he didn’t care. It wasn’t until he actually opened the door that John finally spoke up.

“Dean! Where are you going?” There might have been a hint of worry in his father’s demanding tone, but the younger man ignored it. He wasn’t going to go off himself if that’s what the older man was worried about, and he wasn’t going to let his father stop him either.

“I’m going after my brother.” Dean answered simply before he walked out, tuning out any protest the older hunter might have made.

Dean saw the younger man enter the diner, and he quickly jogged across the parking lot after him. Yeah, his brother had made it pretty clear he didn’t want to be followed, well tough. Sam could be pissed off at him all he wanted. He could yell at him. Hit him. Whatever. But he was tired of Sam walking out on him, god damn it! He wasn’t going to let his brother walk away from him again.

* * *

He was never going to be able to prove himself to them, not ever. Why did he even bother to try? Nothing was good enough. _Sammy can’t …fill in the blank_. All his life, that’s what he got from them. His hunting skills weren’t good enough, his shooting not as good as Dean. Doesn’t have the fight in him. That’s all he ever heard, even when they were wrong.

Then the things he was really good at, those didn’t count. He was shaking his head, and wondering if maybe he should have gone for a run instead, when he heard the door and just knew who it was. Every muscle in his body tensed. He didn’t want to see him, or talk to him. Not know.

Deliberately, he opted for counter seating and picked up a paper. “Just a coffee, please,” he asked the waitress, flipping the paper open and using it as a shield. Maybe he’d be lucky, maybe Dean would take the hint and give him some room.

* * *

Dean’s mouth flattened into a thin line as he watched from the doorway as his brother sat down at the counter and picked up a newspaper. Though Sam hadn’t looked in his direction he was quite certain that the younger man was ignoring him on purpose. It simultaneously made that crushing feeling of hurt all the worse as well as igniting that predatory temper he was becoming all too familiar with now as well.

He pushed both feelings down forcibly as he went over to sit in the chair beside his brother. Though the younger man stubbornly didn’t look up from the damn newspaper, making the elder man’s jaw twitch in irritation, but he controlled his temper. When the waitress returned with Sam’s coffee asking him what he wanted he ordered the same but said nothing else. Waiting for his brother to acknowledge him.

Waiting because he was not going to cause a scene in the middle of a crowded diner. He wasn’t that stupid. Though if Sam kept on ignoring him for too long he might just drag the younger man outside and have it out with him in the parking lot if he needed to. He really, really, hoped that Sam wouldn’t push him to that, however.

He just wanted to talk to Sam, damn it. Hell, isn’t that what his brother was always trying to get him to do these days? Talk?

“So what now? You’re going to give _me_ the whole silent treatment?”

* * *

He wasn’t gonna go away. He wasn’t. Sam knew it the instant Dean ordered a cup of coffee. His fingers tightened around the paper and he was in danger of tearing it as he turned the page.

The first words out of his brother’s mouth needled him. Like _he_ was the one in the wrong here, like he was being unreasonable, and like Dean had the right to expect something different. “No Dean, we’re gonna hold hands and sing Kumbaya and pretend like everything’s great. What do you think?” He looked at him briefly over his paper, then back down at the words swimming in front of his face.

Teeth gritted, tension flowing through him, he forced himself to read and re-read until a single paragraph made sense. Then the waitress came back with the sugar, and he was forced to put the paper down as he stirred some into his coffee.

“So what now, you don’t trust me to walk twenty feet to get coffee? Cause you know, I’m the idiot brother who walks around with my eyes closed and who knows ... I might get captured by...” he lowered his voice, “little people from Mars.” Damn him, damn him for making him feel like this. “Just... just go away, Dean.” He dry scrubbed his face. “I don’t need a fucking body guard, and I sure as hell don’t need any extra help disappointing dad.”

Just thinking about the look on his father’s face when Dean had baldly told him about the werewolf capture had Sam both cringing and angry.

* * *

Dean grit his teeth. His hands clenching into fists in front of him on the counter, and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths to keep from snapping back at his brother and maybe saying something he would regret. Again.

He cringed a little at Sam’s angry words, even as they also made his temper rise just a little more. Reminding himself that Sam had every reason to be pissed off at him didn’t really help though. Because when it came down to it, he had every reason to be pissed off too. If Sam had just argued with their dad a little about going, about leaving him behind…

When his brother went on to order him to ‘go away’ that was it. Dean forgot about the waitresses and the other patrons as he reached over and grabbed the younger man by the front of his shirt. Spinning Sam around on his stool and forcing his brother to look at him, damn it. Dean was fuming, but he kept it under control. Barely. His voice not exactly calm but at least he wasn’t shouting in his brother’s face.

“You know god damn well that’s not what I think and fuck Dad! When the hell have you ever cared about what Dad thought anyway? This isn’t about him, this is about us.” Dean growled before forcing himself to lower his voice. Trying to regain control over his volatile emotions.

“Fine, you don’t need me, but I need you, god damn it. I wasn’t kidding when I said you keep me sane. So I said something stupid to keep you from leaving me, well I’m sorry. But why don’t you tell me why the fuck are you always so ready to leave me behind!”

* * *

Dean moved so fast, Sam had no time to react at all before he was forcibly turned around and drawn close. His heart slammed into his chest, his face flushed. “Dean, let...”

What the hell? Did he really think he didn’t care what his father thought? His heated response died on his lips though, when Dean shifted the focus to them. He didn’t get it, but seeing Dean start to get worked up, he didn’t argue, didn’t fight him off, and just listened.

_I need you, god damn it._ His brother’s words reverberated over and over in his head. Dean would never say anything like that, not ever. Not unless he was really pushed, cornered, desperate.

The accusation, though unwarranted, had Sam wincing. He shook his head no, and was about to answer, when the waitress came over and put her hand on his arm.

“Are you alright, honey?”

He licked his lips. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?” She was looking at Dean’s hand still grabbing Sam’s shirt.

He nodded, “it’s fine. My brother.” As soon as she moved away, Sam put his hand over Dean’s, holding it even as he made it seem as if he was pulling his hand off.

“I wasn’t trying to _leave you_ anywhere, Dean. I suggested all of us go. Then he had a good point about the hunters. You think I want anything to happen to you? You’ve been through enough.” When Dean’s hand finally dropped away, he took a deep breath. “What I want is to help you. Find that guy, find out what he knows... get him back here. It would have been a few days max.”

Feeling Dean’s agitation, he gripped his arm. “I get it now. You need me, I’m staying. Alright? I’m not going anywhere.” He could swallow his hurt, he could pretend the words hadn’t mattered. This was more important... keeping Dean on an even keel, because he couldn’t go through what he had twice already, he couldn’t let Dean get so far off kilter he might try to end his life again. “I’m right here.”

* * *

Dean glared hard at the waitress who interrupted him. Especially when she put a hand on his brother. Earning a rather nasty look from the woman in return but he didn’t really give a damn. Sam’s hand covering his own silenced the rather rude dismissal that had been building in his throat and forced his attention back to his brother.

Letting Sam tug his hand away from his shirt, looking down at his brother’s hand holding his, listening, before looking back up into the younger man’s eyes.

No, he knew that Sam didn’t want anything else to happen to him. He knew his brother was worried about him, with good god damn reason to be. Yeah, maybe their dad did have a point about other hunters but…

All Dean could think about was Sam walking out on him again. Not knowing what was happening. Anything could happen to his brother, he could be hurt or worse, and he wouldn’t be there to help. To stop it. He wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t know for days, and by then it could be too late…

Yeah, he knew he was overreacting. He knew it. But he couldn’t stop it. Just like he couldn’t stop a lot of things. It was just… instinct… to protect what was his.

Dean let out a breath when Sam said he understood, though he wasn’t really sure how his brother could understand it when he could barely understand it himself. Dean had no illusions that he was out of the doghouse completely, but at least Sam didn’t seem quite so mad anymore.

He wanted to pull Sam close. Kiss him, maybe just to prove that they were still ok, but he couldn’t really do that now considering the younger man had blurted out to the waitress that they were brothers. He probably shouldn’t even lean forward and rest his forehead against his brother’s shoulder, but he did anyway. Sighing again, trying to release the tension that had been vibrating through him ever since Dad had suggested that Sam go off on his own.

Damn Dad.

“Sorry… about the…” Maybe he shouldn’t even mention how he’d blurted out to their father about the werewolf thing. He didn’t really want to remind his brother why he should be pissed off at him right now. Though Dean did want to make amends and maybe lighten the mood a little so he added, “You could tell Dad about the whole naked statue in his truck thing… if you wanted…?”

* * *

Sam’s breath caught when Dean leaned against him. He started to look down, and felt the gazes of the waitress and others. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he gave a weak smile, though he didn’t let go of Dean’s arm and just left his hand resting there.

Dean’s joke drew a half-hearted laugh from him. “Yeah, I could,” he said cocking his head slightly.

He was silent for a while, thinking about how strange it was for Dean to be leaning on him like this. They’d come out of some pretty damned hair raising situations in the past, and it was always Sam who’d tried to hug him or physically demonstrate he was glad they or Dean had survived. Even then, his brother often got stiff or shooed or shoved him off.

“You alright?” He started to lift Dean up, his gaze locking with his brother’s. “Coffee’s getting cold.”

* * *

Dean allowed Sam to push him away, even though he was reluctant to go. Noticing the flush on his brother’s cheeks made a bit of warmth fill his own as well. Not that he really gave a damn about what other people thought right now. Just because he knew this kind of touchy feely wasn’t normally his thing.

Another wolf thing? Or was it just because they were fucking now?

He didn’t have anything to go by really. He’d never really had more than one night stands, he didn’t do girlfriends, and having a… lover… was new to him.

Dean coughed a little self consciously as he turned away from Sam’s much too searching gaze. Back to the counter and taking a drink of his coffee.

“We good?” He tried to ask as casually as possible.

* * *

“Sure.” Realizing that he sounded flip, he shook his head and added, “we’re good.” He wasn’t lying. It wasn’t as if he would have kept a grudge for days over what happened. But he wasn’t good at flipping a switch and changing moods just like that either.

Pulling his cup over, he took a sip and set it back down. His hands stayed curled around the mug as he spoke. “You know, while dad’s gone, you and I can work the Joe Windtalker angle. It’ll give us something to do, be productive.” And maybe if they got somewhere, that look in dad’s eye might soften. Nah, probably not. He really should stop trying to fight uphill battles.

His mouth had flattened into a thin line. He took a deep breath, and tried to be more positive. “Maybe you could get us invited to another pow wow. I mean if that’s what it takes for us to get information out of him...” Course the instant that left his mouth, he knew it was a bad idea. They'd get drunk, and then it would be that bar scene with the getting caught by the werewolves all over again. Or if not werewolves, with their luck, something else would get them.

Rubbing his neck, he looked at Dean. "You think this guy Connall... you think it'll pan out?" He trusted his brother's instincts, even if it wasn't a two way street.

* * *

Dean glanced at his brother briefly, before looking back down at his own cup of coffee like it had all the answers to the universe, all he had to do was wait for them to float to the top. Yeah right, if it were only that easy.

He nodded to the younger man’s suggestion that they should keep trying to get in touch with Joe, there wouldn’t be much else they could do after all. Stuck here while John was off searching for Conall again.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Their dad would probably kill them if they actually left to go to a pow wow, though the idea still made a smile form on Dean’s face. One last hurrah before the end? He couldn’t really think of anything better.

At his brother’s last question however the smile slipped from his face, and he didn’t answer the younger man for a long time. Finally giving a half hearted shrug before taking another sip from his coffee before answering.

“If he’s still alive I think Dad will find him.” He answered with all honesty. Dean had no doubt that their father was stubborn enough to tear apart the whole world to find this guy if he wanted to. The problem was, Dean wasn’t all that sure that it was worth it, even if they did find this guy Conall. It didn’t mean that he could, or would, be able to help him.

“Either way, I don’t think it’s gonna be before the next full moon though…” Dean’s voice lowered as he finally voiced his greatest fear.

* * *

Sam’s head snapped toward Dean and he was about to tell him not to be so negative, but the look on his face... in his eyes... it stopped Sam’s tirade cold. Fear wasn’t something Dean often revealed. So far he’d shown anger and self revulsion, but this was the first time that he’d seen a flash of pure alarm in his eyes.

“He’s gonna find him, Dean. We’ve done things with no time to spare, this might be one of them.” Deep down, he knew Dean was right, there was a good chance they’d go through at least one full moon cycle. If that happened, Dean’s bones would bend and reshape, push if flesh around until he looked inhuman. His fingers would turn to claws, he’d be a fierce beast.

Now Sam was scaring himself. He didn’t want Dean to go through this. “Dammit, we’re gonna stop this.” He waved the waitress over. “Three coffees to go.”

When she moved away he scrubbed his face. They had to do something. “Dean. Even if... just want you to know, I’ll be right there with you. You won’t be alone. Not a single minute.”

As they got closer to a full moon, they’d have to think of ways to restrain his brother. A cage, or chains. Just flashing back to how he’d been kept in that mansion, tied down like an animal, and then Dean’s reaction that day he’d cuffed him to the bed, it made Sam nauseous. “You got that, Dean? Not a minute,” he put his hand on Dean’s far shoulder, gripping him tight as he made the promise.

* * *

Dean managed a strained smile, his gaze moving from his brother’s hand on his shoulder to Sam’s face. Wishing he could take comfort in his brother’s reassurances, his confidence, but they both knew the truth and soon there would be no more denying it. Soon he would turn into a bloodthirsty monster. Soon he would become what they hunted. Soon he would have to be restrained to keep from killing innocent people, tearing them to shreds, ripping out their hearts… and if he got free…

How could he tell his brother his reassurance that he would be there, every second, was what Dean feared most? His brother watching him change like that, seeing what he would become, and if something horrible happened… it would be his brother he would try to kill first. If Sam didn’t put him down it would be his brother’s blood on his hands he would wake to when the sun rose.

Maybe he should have let Sam go looking for Conell instead of their father. In the end he knew their dad would pull the trigger if he had to. His father would never let him kill either of them, knowing he’d never survive the guilt anyway. But Sam…

The waitress returned with the coffees, still giving Dean dirty looks, and he had to resist the urge to flip her off before she walked away again.

“I guess we better get back.” Dean said, giving his brother a more genuine smile and nod of thanks, shoving aside all other thoughts and worries for now because there was nothing he could do about them anyway. Sooner or later he’d have to face these fears again, he knew, but for now he’d rather it be later than sooner.

He picked up two of the coffees, letting Sam take the third, as he stood up to head back to the motel room and their father.

* * *

Watching the expressions chasing over his brother’s tense face, Sam tensed too. He knew what was going through his brother’s mind, just knew. He didn’t blame him. If their roles had been reversed, he might worry for Dean too. But he’d trust Dean. Know that Dean wouldn’t do anything stupid to get himself killed. Sam could be careful too. If his brother were restrained the right way, there was no reason he’d have to leave him. None.

It wasn’t worth arguing over. It was an argument he’d never win anyway.

Pretending to accept Dean’s smile, he silently got up. He paid the bill, and left the waitress a good tip. They’d be back here, and anything he could do to counteract Dean’s caustic behavior would be good.

Walking ahead of Dean, he opened the door for him, and headed across the parking lot toward their room. He was all business, gung ho about finding answers, doing it quickly, and efficiently, up until they got to their room. Then he unlocked the door and let Dean go in, hesitating at the threshold as he looked at his dad.

His father barely looked up, and had taken Sam’s place at the desk. Sam didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved that his dad couldn’t look at him. He tried his damnedest to stop thinking about what the elder Winchester was thinking. By now, he’d probably forgotten all about the picture Sam had located, ‘cause yeah, one “oh shit” wiped out a thousand “attaboys” in their family, and getting caught by werewolves was high on the "oh shit" list.

Stealing only a glance at Dean, he went and got his lap top from next to the pad their dad was writing on, and quickly moved away. It was gonna be a long night. Maybe he could say he wasn’t hungry when dad and Dean decided they wanted to eat. Yeah, that would be a couple hours from now.

Letting out a deep sigh and dry scrubbing his face, he headed for the bed and sat back against the pillows. Head tilted back against the headboard, he closed his eyes and tried to think of what stones he’d yet to turn over. There had to be something. If not Connall, some other solution… there had to be. He just had to find it.


	10. Chapter 10

  
The rest of the day had been… tense. To say the least.   


  
Dean wouldn't go as far as saying things were as tense as they'd been right before Sam had left his family for college, but it was pretty damn close. Dad and Sam seemed determined to ignore each other's presence. Dean felt like he was tiptoeing around a minefield, afraid one wrong word spoken would set off a chain of explosions like before. So he'd kept quiet most of the night, and frankly it was driving him up the wall.

Before dinner Dad had left to check on his truck and when he'd come back Dean's hopes that his father would be leaving that night were dashed when the older man said the truck wouldn't be ready till morning. Dean didn't know whether to feel guilty for wishing his father would leave or upset that the older man seemed just as upset that he had to stay the night again with them.

Needless to say, dinner had not been a fun affair. Sam insisting he wasn't hungry, Dad looking pissed as hell at first, then worse, like he didn't care at all a minute later when he stormed out towards the diner demanding Dean come along. Not knowing what to do anymore, still worried that Sam was still a little pissed off at him from earlier, he'd went with his father. Maybe hoping to smooth some of the older man's ruffled feathers only he ended up sitting there silently in the booth across from his Dad, not even eating half of his food, taking the rest in a doggy bag with him back to their room in case Sam was hungry later. 

John had decided to go to bed early that night, wanting to get up as early as possible in the morning, that meant all of them were going to bed early. Dean didn't argue, it would only help morning to come quicker after all, and thank god neither had Sam. Dad had gone to bed, and Dean crawled under the covers beside his brother. Each of them staying on their respective sides of the queen until the older man fell asleep and even after their father had been snoring softly for some time Dean felt a little reluctant closing the distance between them. After the fit his brother had thrown last night…

But, damn it, he needed to at least know it wasn't him that Sam was pissed off at, that they really were ok and Sam wasn't just telling him what he wanted to hear to shut him up, if an elbow to the ribs is what it took to prove that… Dean rolled over onto his side and slid close to the younger man. Wrapping an arm securely around his brother's waist and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck. 

* * *

The heavy silence in the room had been unbearable. The longer it lasted, the more wound up Sam got, though he tried to suppress his feelings by burying himself in his research, and by pretending their father wasn’t there. He resented his father’s refusal to break the ice and had all sorts of opinions on what the man was thinking, all the ways he was finding fault in Sam. His gaze strayed to Dean occasionally, but for the most part, they hardly interacted.

The relief he felt when dad left for dinner, dragging Dean with him, was short lived. Too soon, he returned, looking even more pissed off than before dinner, and practically decreeing it was bed time. Wordlessly, Sam undressed and slipped inside the bed, on the side closest to his father’s bed. The angry scowl never left his face, even as he felt Dean’s weight move the mattress and the lights went out.

Sam’s eyes were drilling daggers into his father’s sleeping figure, when he felt Dean’s arm suddenly close around him, as his brother held him and kissed him so lightly, he wondered if he was imagining it. He knew this was hard on Dean… as always, Dean was the casualty in the battle of wills between himself and his dad. For that, he was sorry.

The sounds of snores reassuring him, Sam put his hand over Dean’s arm and pulled to loosen his brother’s hold, then turned to face him. Even in the dark, he could see Dean’s eyes glowing, his face unsmiling, maybe nervous or wary.

Swallowing, he brought his mouth down directly over Dean’s, kissing him slowly. His tongue barely penetrated past Dean’s teeth, and he kept the kiss shallow… just giving and receiving comfort. The last thing he wanted was to set either of them on fire because it was gonna be a long damned night anyway.

Sliding his mouth across Dean’s cheek, to his ear, he murmured. “Sorry bout…” he didn’t have to explain. “Night, Dean.” Adjusting his body, he curled up comfortable on Dean’s chest, listening to the sound of his heart beat and resisting the urge to move his hand from above his brother’s tee shirt to the heat he knew he’d find under it. Later he’d move away, but right now, he needed this, and he had a feeling Dean did too.

* * *

Dean felt himself holding his breath a moment when he felt his brother grip his arm. The younger man forcing him to loosen his hold, and for a split second Dean felt all of his fears from before beginning to take a hold again against his will. But Sam wasn’t pulling away from him, instead turning around in his embrace, and Dean sighed softly, visibly relaxing as his brother pressed up close against him.

He slipped his other arm around Sam, tightening his embrace once more, and parting his lips eagerly for the easy kiss he was given. The warmth of his brother’s lips and tongue tasting him slowly igniting a slow burning heat in the pit of his stomach. Thrumming just underneath his skin that prickled, begging for the younger man’s touch.

A soft sound of complaint broke free from his lips when the kiss ended. It was kind of odd to feel such contentment and frustration at the same time as his brother’s body settled over him. Feeling his own body relaxing underneath the younger man’s weight even as a different kind of tension began to build in response to Sam’s warmth soaking into him.

“Night…” He whispered softly, determined for once, to control himself. Sam had made it clear last night that he wouldn’t be doing anything with Dad in the room even if the man seemed dead to the world. Besides, their father would be leaving in the morning. They’d have all day to… if Sam wanted…

Dean closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep, even as his fingers found their way into his brother’s hair practically involuntarily. Slowly petting through the incredibly soft strands. Ghosting down to the back of his brother’s neck, lightly caressing the warm skin he found.

* * *

“Mmm.” Sam involuntarily gave a sound of pleasure, smiling against Dean’s chest. This was new, different, and very unlike Dean in his mind, but it felt good. Or maybe the word was ‘right.’ Between the soothing movements of Dean’s fingers in his hair, and the safety of his arms around him, Sam thought sleep wouldn’t be an issue. The tension that had built up all day long should melt away.

Well... he’d been wrong before. Sleep didn’t come quickly. Every time he heard his father shift or turn, Sam held his breath. Then he’d feel Dean’s arms tighten around him, and know that he was keeping his brother up too. God... would morning never come?

Eventually he slowly moved out of Dean’s arms, and rolled onto his side. Letting out a deep breath, he tried to convince him tomorrow would be better. They’d be over today’s drama, they’d get coffee and send dad off. Even forcing himself to think calming thoughts didn’t seem to help. A part of him was still edgy and nervous. He kinda wished he could go for a run, but knew if he tried, he’d have to deal with not one, but two angry men.

He sighed again, eyeing the book on the nightstand and wondering if he could get away with turning on just the lamp.

* * *

Dean was trying to relax, he really was, and in a way he was relaxed. Holding his brother like this, petting him, hearing the soft sound of pleasure the younger man made as he stroked his hair and neck made him smile. It was soothing and it felt good. Maybe too good, because despite how he tried he couldn’t ignore the other tension, the one itching right underneath his skin, begging for more than just this simple soothing touch.

The one that begged for him to run his hands all over his brother’s body, made him want to trace every muscle, grip the younger man’s ass, and stroke his cock. The one that wanted more than just that gentle kiss, wanted to taste the younger man deeper, longer, crush their lips together till they both ached and make Sam moan wantonly in his arms.

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he had a problem. Maybe he needed to learn how to control himself. But could his brother really blame him for being so damn horny for him all the time? Sam had a body to die for and being so close like this was a kind of sweet torture.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Sam was feeling it too. Since his brother wasn’t asleep any more than he was. There was a definite tension in the younger man’s body, Dean could feel it, but it was difficult to tell if Sam was thinking what he was thinking, probably not, or if he was just being all tense and prudish because Dad was sleeping a few feet away. It wasn’t like they were doing anything… even though Dean wanted to be. He really, really, wanted to be.

When his brother finally rolled out of his embrace Dean had to bite back the sound of disappointment that welled up immediately in his throat. He stared at the younger man for a few moments in the dark. The tense line of his shoulders, counting his brother’s carefully measured breaths that were anything but calm or relaxed. He stared at his brother on the other side of the bed for a full ten minutes before he finally said, fuck it.

If neither of them were going to get any sleep tonight, why even try? Never know, what he had planned might just relax them both enough to get some sleep afterwards. Worth a try, right? He had a feeling his brother wouldn’t see it that way, but that didn’t stop Dean from rolling over as well. Pressing himself up against the younger man’s back once more, and once again brushing his lips at the junction where his neck met his shoulder.

“You’re tense…” He murmured softly. Slipping his arm around Sam’s waist, not at all hesitant this time, as his fingers worked their way eagerly underneath his brother’s shirt to rest his palm flat on the younger man’s firmly muscled stomach, holding his brother tightly. A small moan escaping his lips, wetly kissing and licking the flesh beneath them, as he pressed his crotch firmly against his brother’s ass, rubbing insistently, letting the younger man feel him hardening. “I can help with that…”

* * *

Sam wasn’t real surprised when Dean rolled close and pressed up against him. A smile played on his lips as he thought about how they’d been since the first day they got Dean away from the werewolves. If it wasn’t Dean moving into his space in bed, it was Sam instinctively moving into Dean’s space. Yeah, at first it had been because Dean was injured, but later... Something was definitely drawing them together. Something that couldn’t be denied, even if it _should be._

“A little,” Sam whispered. Just as his eyes drifted shut, he felt a change in Dean. His soft touches suddenly became more aggressive, trapping Sam between his palms pressing and pulling against his stomach, and his entire body. Just like... God dammit... just like that, Sam was on fire, involuntarily pressing back against Dean’s arousal and moaning softly at the blinding heat coursing through his system.

It was wrong to need Dean this much when they were alone. It was a thousand times worse to want him, to need to feel his tongue in his mouth, to feel his cock inside him, to hear him cry out his name, with their father only a few feet away.

His heart was pounding against his chest, his mouth parted as he struggled for air. Dean’s hands were wreaking havoc with his senses, so he put his own over them, stilling them, and croaked. “No more, Dean. It’s not helping... not helping at all.”

* * *

Feeling his brother’s pulse kick up underneath his lips, feeling the skin underneath his hands flush with arousal, hearing the younger man moan softly, had Dean biting back his own groan of pleasure as he was suddenly incredibly hard. He couldn’t stop from rubbing his arousal firmly against the younger man’s buttocks, the thin material of their shorts the only thing keeping them apart. His lips now sucking a faint bruise at Sam’s neck, letting his teeth scrape just a little.

God, he almost couldn’t believe how Sam could affect him. He could never seem to get enough of touching him, tasting his skin, wanting to fuck him. He’d ached to be inside his brother again ever since that night and it was almost too much to bear. He’d never wanted, needed, anyone like this before. Maybe it was wrong but he didn’t give a damn. He didn’t give a damn that their father was sleeping only a few feet from them, that they could be caught at any second.

Maybe it was sick and twisted, but it may have only excited him more.

Then, of course, his brother started to protest, but Dean was ready for it this time. Biting down a little harder on the younger man’s neck, just enough to sting a little, before he soothed it away with his tongue. Using the distraction to slip his hands out from underneath Sam’s, one of them reaching up to cover his brother’s mouth to muffle any more sounds of protest, or anything else for that matter, while his other hand slid lower to cup his brother through his underwear, giving the younger man’s cock a few gentle squeezes.

“Shhh, it will, I promise…” Dean all but purred in his brother’s ear.

* * *

Before Sam had time to voice how pissed off he was getting about all the marks Dean kept leaving on his skin, Dean’s palm was over his cock, squeezing him, touching him, scorching him with such heat, Sam would have come off the mattress but for his brother’s iron grip around his waist and shoulder.

How could he intellectually hate the possessive and entitled way in which he was being touched and groped, and yet have his body react so strongly to it? It irked him that it was exactly his brother’s sexual aggression that got to him, that turned him on like this, like nothing else could. What kind of loser would want ... need to be controlled?

Then Dean’s hand was stroking and pressing, making him ache and need more. Between that and the feel of Dean’s hard cock grinding ruthlessly against his ass, and thoughts of how hard Dean was for him, how much he must be hurting too, how much he must want to be inside him... Sam couldn’t think anymore.

His fear of detection was trumped by the urgent needs Dean was so easily building, stoking within him. _So hot. So fucking hot. He needed more. More of Dean. Needed to touch him, to claw at him... needed to feel him inside his ass, his mouth. Oh God, something had to put out the fires, something._ Blinded with need, Sam writhed almost violently. If Dean hadn’t been so fucking strong, the thrashing would have awakened a dead man. And if his hands weren’t on Sam’s mouth, if they didn’t keep slipping over his nose to stop the noisiest moans that kept trying to break through...

_Fuck, fuck, fuck... Dean._ Sam reached behind him, trying to grip his ass, trying to hold onto something... anything. This was so insane, so fucking intense... he was gonna die, he just knew he was gonna die.

* * *

"Shh…" Dean hushed the younger man again, even as he slid his hand underneath the waistband of his brother's underwear. His fingers curling around the burning heavy weight of Sam's cock and he had to bury his face in his brother's throat to muffle a too loud moan that tried to break free from his own lips.

Dean wasn't an idiot. As much as he was focused on the younger man writhing in his arms, he was also focused on the figure sleeping not a few feet away from them. Monitoring the older man's breathing, if their father shifted or his breath changed, if he gave any indication he was getting ready to wake up, Dean was ready to stop. Though at this point, how needy Sam was, he wondered if it would do any damn good.

Yeah, he was playing with fire right now. Did he care? Hell no.

"Easy baby…" He whispered softly into his brother's ear, his thumb circling around the crown of the younger man's dick, gathering the drops of come that had already leaked free, and spreading it down the length of Sam's shaft. Giving his brother a nice slick channel to fuck into as he stroked the younger man's cock in a quick, almost punishing, rhythm.

He wished he could go slower, to draw out his brother's pleasure as well as his own, to spend hours tasting him and touching him, listening to him moan, but when their dad could wake any second it would be just plain stupid not to get this over with as quickly as they could. As hot as Sam was in his arms, he didn't think his brother was going to last very long anyway. The fact that he could bring the younger man to this point so quickly only made him hotter as well.

As it was he had to hold his brother tightly against him in a near bruising grip just to keep Sam still, to keep him from thrashing, and he couldn't believe how fucking hot restraining his brother like this was. Covering his mouth, sometimes not letting the younger man breathe at all, to keep him silent, crushing him between his chest and the mattress to keep him virtually still, their bodies so close not even air could penetrate between them. Rubbing his throbbing length between the cheeks of the younger man's ass, so fucking close to the heat he so desperately wanted wrapped around him, making him ache even more. So much it was nearly torture for them both but only the sweetest kind.

"That's it, little brother, that's it… don't hold back, Sammy, I've got you…"

* * *

Dean’s soft, soothing words whispered in his ear contrasted with the hard hand over his mouth, refusing to allow any sounds to escape. And with his other hand, moving up and down his shaft so hard, so fast... making Sam feel like he was running a race, trying to catch up... trying. _Oh God... oh God... oh God,_ he wanted to shout as the pleasure pain kept sharpening, intensifying, with no end in sight.

His entire body was coated with a sheen of sweat, he didn’t know if it was his own or Dean’s... they were pressed together so tight it was hard to tell. He was so hot, so fucking hot, he was burning up. The longer it lasted, the hungrier he was for more. He wanted to tell Dean to fuck him, to pull the damned shorts down and get inside him... now. He needed it so fucking bad, and Dean wasn’t letting him talk... wasn’t letting him explain.

He started to thrash harder, fevered and desperate, wanting to come... wanting to wait until Dean was inside him... frustrated by the cloth that separated their bodies, that stopped Dean’s arousal from entering him... from being part of him. _God damn it..._ , he was trying to twist away when Dean whispered again, telling him to come... that he had him.

How did Dean know what to do... what to fucking say to take his choice in the matter away? There wasn’t a thing Sam could do to fight his body's demands, the sudden rush of scorching heat burning him up... flaring from his groin and spreading out. He mindlessly jerked back and forth, his mind shattering into a thousand pieces as Dean milked him of his seed and came with him against his ass.

The wetness that spread across the back of his shorts had Sam whimpering. “Wanted you inside,” he whispered between Dean’s fingers. “Dammit... damn you.” He knew he couldn’t have had it the way he wanted, but he also couldn’t fight the rush of anger. “Always your way... always...” And yet he didn’t move away, didn’t shove Dean to the other side, and didn’t even get up to change. He just rested the back of his head against Dean and closed his eyes, putting his hand over Dean’s still around his waist... maybe an unconscious effort to keep him there.

* * *

Dean grit his teeth together so hard his jaw ached, barely holding in the cry of pleasure that tried to break free feeling Sam thrash and moan in his arms. The younger man fighting hard against him in his passion and for a moment Dean wasn’t sure he could hold onto his brother through it all and he worried he might actually cause serious damage to Sam trying.

But then his brother stiffened and shot load after load of hot semen through his fingers and Dean buried a groan in the back of his lover’s neck coming seconds after his brother. Hardly caring about the hot sticky mess he left inside his own underwear as he continued to stroke his brother, slowing his pace, trying to ease the younger man down gently. Finally risking relaxing his hand over his brother’s mouth.

Dad was still asleep. The older man’s breathing hadn’t changed despite the fact that they hadn’t exactly been as quiet as he’d hoped during the last of that, and Dean breathed a small sigh of relief between his panting breaths against the back of his brother’s neck. That had been close, too damn close, and he finally got what Sam was saying. Despite how fucking hot that was they couldn’t do that again, at least not while their father was around. Couldn’t risk it.

Though he found his resolve already weakening when he heard Sam’s soft whisper, muffling a small moan against his brother’s skin and pressing a kiss to the younger man’s sweat slicked shoulder. God, but he’d wanted to be inside Sam as well. So fucking bad. Sam’s angry whispered words after confused Dean, well, maybe not confused, since he had known he would be risking his brother’s displeasure making out like that with their dad in the room. But that’s not what Sam was saying, either. Always his way?

Whatever it was about Sam obviously wasn’t pissed off enough at him to push him away, quite the opposite, so Dean decided he’d worry about it later. He was too damn tired to think about it right now. He at least felt he could sleep now as he pressed another soft kiss to the junction of his brother’s neck and nestled in as close to Sam as he possibly could.

“Get some sleep, Sammy.” He murmured, already feeling himself drifting off.

* * *

Sam fell into a deep, dreamless. What scared him when he woke was how dead to the world he’d been. And not only him, Dean as well. Somehow they’d ended up holding each other and anyone who saw them like that would have to be clueless not to _know_.

It had to be a miracle that their father hadn’t changed positions and that he was still sleeping. They’d gone to bed so fucking early, it was just unbelievable. Unless he was just that exhausted from his prior trip.

A frisson of guilt went through Sam. Maybe that’s why his dad had wanted him to be the one to go chase down Connall in New Mexico. Trying to put that behind him, he got out of bed. The smell of sex was almost overpowering and freaked him out.

He almost woke Dean up, to make him take a shower... get rid of their shorts... anything. But after taking a few deep breaths, he settled on sprinkling a bit of cologne on the bed, and then headed for the bathroom.

After his shower, as he was getting dressed, he saw the new bruises. One on his hip, from how hard Dean had been holding him. That didn’t bug him, but the one on the side of his neck had him cursing. When he padded out into the room, the others were still sleeping.

He was halfway dressed when he had to dive to stop his phone. It was vibrating, and if it wasn’t picked up, it would ring. One glance told him it was Jess. He had to do this, had to.

Sneaking out of the room barefooted, he went and leaned against the wall and took her call. Of course she was worried. He hadn’t been calling her, and hadn’t been answering her messages. He felt like such a shit. Such a goddamned awful shit.

Eventually he squatted down and spoke to her, one heavy lie tripping so easily off his tongue after the next. He was a Winchester. He could scam like the best. By the time he was done, she wasn’t angry and just said she’d expect to hear from him in a couple days.

Then she added, “I love you,” and he was stumped.

“Sam?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, I’m here. I love you two,” he said, closing his eyes, relieved to hear her hang up. He sat there like that for a while, long enough for someone to ask if he was okay. He nodded and got up.

Rubbing his eyes as he walked inside, he decided he really couldn’t put off going for a run. It might be his last chance anyway, with dad here to stay with Dean.

* * *

When Dean woke up he was alone in the bed. Probably why he'd woke up in the first place, actually. He was always keenly aware these days when Sam was around, or not around, for that matter. Another part of his new uncontrollable obsession with his brother… Of course that didn't really explain why he smelled like he'd taken a bath in Obsession for Men.

Christ. Had Sam dumped the whole bottle of cologne on him! Yeah, like that was something subtle that dad wouldn't notice, much easier to explain than a wet dream or something. Of course maybe it wasn't as strong as he thought it was. Maybe it was him.

His sense of smell seemed to be growing more acute every day that passed. Not to mention his hearing, which was why he knew his brother was just outside the motel room door even though he could tell Sam was speaking in a fairly quiet tone.

Who the hell was he talking to? Phone. Had to be. Definitely not their dad since the older man was still sleeping in the bed across from him. The mysterious 'Jess'? The person who Sam couldn't talk to on the phone while his brother was around? The cause of that freak out session in the car when his brother had asked him about cheating on someone…

Dean felt a cold bitter emotion settle in his stomach he didn't want to examine too closely. It was dark and poisonous and frankly scared the hell out of him.

_I love you, too._

White hot jealous rage bubbled up so quickly inside him when he heard the soft muffled words he felt almost dizzy with it. His fingernails digging cruelly into the flesh of his palm, the pain so sharp he gasped and looked down at his hand and the blood dripping from his closed fist. When he opened it he felt like his blood had suddenly turned to ice seeing his fingernails, for a moment, long and sharpened like claws.

Dean was off the bed in a second, running to the bathroom and slamming the door loud enough to wake his father out of a sound sleep. Causing the older man to sit up with a jolt and instinctively reaching for the gun under his pillow ready for danger. Looking from the door as Sam came in from outside, then to the bathroom. John got off the bed, crossed the room quickly to the bathroom, and tried the door, finding it was unsurprisingly locked.

"Dean? Open the door." John ordered through the door, barely keeping the worry bordering on panic he felt out of his tone and he didn't even give a damn if he was overreacting. Remembering all too well how his son had already tried to kill himself twice. Five seconds. That was all Dean was getting. Five seconds and then the door was coming off its hinges.

Not that the younger man realized any of this. He was too busy dropping to his knees in front of the toilet, heaving his guts out.

* * *

“What happened?” Sam shouted, also at the door with his father, pounding on it. Dean wasn’t gonna do something stupid was he. Not again, no. _Please God, please no. Please._ “Dean. Dean open the door. Dean?”

Sam stepped back and nodded at his dad. “Go ahead, break it.” Forget privacy, forget everything... if Dean wasn’t answering, something was the hell wrong. So many things in the bathroom, mirror, blades, hell... if he wanted to, he could hang himself.

His chest heaved as his heart pounded against his chest. An icy cold finger of fear slid down his spine as his dad kicked the door open. “Let me...”

He didn’t even wait for his dad’s answer, he scrambled inside and dropped to his knees next to his brother, sliding his hand up and down his bare back. “It’s alright... he’s just sick,” he shouted over his shoulder, sure the relief in his dad’s eyes was reflected in his own.

“Okay Dean, you’re gonna be okay.” He was still breathing hard, still touching Dean, trying to offer comfort even when Dean was dry heaving. “Okay... you’re empty. Must have been something you ate.”

He tried to start lifting Dean up, but that’s when he saw the blood. A bit of scarlet smeared on the white tile. His breath caught in his throat, just as his heart stuttered. Gripping Dean’s hand, he picked it up. “What have you done?”

His brain froze as he tried to understand, and then when he realized the cuts were not the small half moons that he’d expect to see from fingernails. Shock reverberated through his system, and he was the one who wanted to throw up now. As much as he’d claimed he could take it... “Dean,” he pulled him into his arms and held him tight, not giving a flying fuck what his dad saw... or what he thought. He didn’t wanna lose Dean to whatever he was becoming. He didn’t want Dean afraid of what he was becoming. But he was powerless... so fucking powerless, and all he could do was hold him. “Alright. It’s gonna be alright,” he crooned, over and over, unsure who he was convincing.

* * *

Dean didn’t hear the pounding on the door or the shouts from his father and brother over his own retching. His body convulsing as he threw up the meager contents of his stomach, what little dinner he’d eaten last night, but even when there couldn’t be anything left he continued to heave. He almost welcomed the painful cramping, the burning in his throat from the stomach acid, because that pain kept him from focusing on the pain in his hand. The pain caused from claws, his claws, buried deep in his own flesh. Just a hint of what he would become in a few weeks.

But it had happened now… The change brought on by his own irrational jealous rage. Oh god… dear god…

Helpless, hopeless, tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over his cheeks. He barely heard the sound of the door being broken open. Barely felt the warm hand on his back stroking up and down in a vain attempt to sooth him as he continued to retch. Barely heard his brother’s voice, his gentle words of comfort, even though he knew Sam was there. He always knew Sam was there. He knew his father was there too, watching.

He knew they were worried. He could hear it in his brother’s voice, feel it, but he could do nothing to offer them any reassurance that he would be ok. Because he wasn’t and he would never be ok again. It was then that he felt his brother grasp his wounded hand, lift it up to examine the wound, and Dean just knew that Sam knew. They both knew. He heard it in the sound of his own name on the younger man’s lips. Heard it in his father’s sharp intake of breath. Felt it in the way Sam suddenly embraced him, practically cradling him against his body, a sob welling up in Dean’s throat he just couldn’t fight back. He could only clutch at the younger man desperately clinging to the whispered reassurances they both knew weren’t true.

Their father looking on, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Dean’s wounded hand. The slices in his palm too prominent, too deep, the wrong shape, to have possibly been made by fingernails. But why? How? They still had weeks before the full moon. How could Dean possibly have changed now? Its true he’d heard rumors that some of the older and more powerful werewolves could change at will, that the change might even spontaneously happen as a result of strong emotions, but Dean had only just been bitten, hadn’t even gone through one lunar cycle yet, it made no sense…

Again John found himself torn, debating whether or not to leave his sons here alone, perhaps he should stay, but what point would that serve in the end? His presence alone would not stop the change from coming. Only finding a cure as quickly as possible would help Dean.

“I’m going to check on the truck. Take care of your brother.” John finally said, swallowing down his pain seeing his son like this caused, instead focusing on his determination to save his son. He turned to get dressed, leaving Dean in his brother’s, obviously, more than capable hands. Seeing as how the tension in the younger man’s frame already had begun to melt away thanks to Sam’s efforts.

* * *

He heard his father say he was leaving to see about his truck. Sam was torn. He wanted to tell his dad to hurry, to just go out there and find Connall, to step on it. But he wanted to beg him to stay, or to take them with him, too. He was afraid, so fucking afraid of what Dean would to. What if he couldn’t stop Dean from hurting himself? What if he’d been taking a razor to his wrist instead of throwing up, and Sam wasn’t there to stop him. _What if?_

Barely nodding to his father, he just kept his hold on his brother… hanging onto him, letting Dean hang on to him. He didn’t even know what he said, what he whispered to Dean. Whatever it was, it was all from his heart… straight from his heart. He couldn’t lose Dean. He wouldn’t.

When he thought Dean had calmed enough, he asked him to get up. Together they stood and Sam helped him to the sink. Their eyes met in the mirror, so serious, passing messages back and forth only they could understand.

Right after Dean brushed his teeth, Sam noticed the revulsion in Dean’s eyes as he stared at his own hand putting the toothbrush in a glass.

“No. No Dean,” he whispered, taking his brother’s hand and turning it over. The wounds were already healing, but what might have had him gasping in wonder meant nothing at the moment. Very deliberately, he kissed Dean’s knuckles and the ends of his fingers. “It’s still you Dean. It’s you.”

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure how long the two of them sat like that on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, the taste of bile still strong and nauseating in his mouth, and Sam clinging to him like his brother was afraid he would vanish from his arms like smoke in an instant if he let go. Dean must have been afraid of much the same thing, because he clung to the younger man just as tightly. Just as desperately. Until Sam finally suggested softly that they should get up and Dean merely nodded. Feeling too drained physically and mentally from his most recent panic attack to argue.

Letting his brother help him to his feet, and though he felt a bit shaky at first, and he cursed under his breath. Ordering himself to get a fucking grip, the voice inside his head sounding suspiciously like his father even though the older man had already left the motel room. Nothing had changed during the last few minutes, he reminded himself. He’d always had known what he would become. They both had. He’d just been… unprepared… for the weight of reality to come crashing down on him so soon.

Dean could clearly see how much he was scaring his brother, saw it written all over Sam’s face when their eyes met in the mirror briefly before he looked away. Grabbing his toothbrush and cleaning his teeth vigorously, erasing the taste of his own sickness, wishing he could so easily remove the darker taint inside of him, and this time he wasn’t even thinking about the werewolf venom running through his veins. Rather the poisonous jealous rage he’d felt, strong enough to have triggered the change early inside of him.

When his brother grasped his wounded hand, brushing the softest kisses over his fingertips that had minutes ago been vicious claws capable of tearing flesh, Dean felt guilt twist inside of him like a hot knife. Sam had no idea why, hadn’t even asked him why it had happened, how, he merely accepted it, trying to comfort him. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Sam knew he’d been thinking about tearing out the throat of the person his brother loved if he’d be so understanding…

“Is it? I don’t even know what’s me anymore, Sam.” He whispered, pulling his hand away and gripping the edge of the sink tightly with both hands, hanging his head in shame. “Don’t you even want to even know why? I heard you, Sam. On the phone. When you said you… loved them… right then I really wanted to kill that person. That’s why it happened… is that really me, Sammy?”

* * *

Sam was startled by how roughly Dean tugged his hand away. He was shaking his head ‘no’ as his brother started to beat himself up, doubting who he was, asking whether Sam even wanted to know why it happened. Before he could answer, Dean dropped his bomb.

The blood drained from Sam’s face. His heart started to pound hard all over again. His mind was a mess of thoughts and fears. He’d known Dean getting more and more possessive, but he’d never understood how extreme it was or could get. He didn’t even want to think of his brother having the urge to kill Jessica. This was his fault... he should never have left Dean alone.

He took a few shallow breaths and read Dean’s body language, biting his lip at the pain and guilt emanating from his brother. “Dean.” When thee was no answer, he stepped behind Dean and closed his arms around is waist, holding him close and whispering in his ear. “No, _that’s_ not you. _This_ is you.”

More silence, and all he could do was hold Dean closer and lean his chin on his brother’s shoulder. “I never thought it was going to be easy. I’m not expecting it to be. We’ll figure out your emotional triggers and avoid them, okay? She... she’s not gonna call for a while.” He didn’t know whether he should have brought Jess up or not, but it just slipped out. “I’ll be more careful. Dean?” He called him again, frowning when his brother still refused to look up. “I wanted to kill you last night. And this morning... you’re leaving bruises in all the wrong places. But I still love you. Thinking about killing someone doesn’t change that. You just got angry.”

* * *

Dean wasn’t surprised when Sam didn’t say anything for a long time. The elder man was a little surprised he’d blurted all of that out, but he didn’t regret it. One thing he’d never do was knowingly put his brother in danger, Sam deserved to know just how dangerous he was… he was becoming. Sam needed to be prepared. He was surprised however even after Dean had admitted he’d wanted to kill someone, some **one** not some damn monster, and not only that someone his brother… loved… that Sam still wanted to touch him at all much less put his arms around him to comfort him.

He didn’t stiffen or try to pull away, welcoming his brother’s efforts even though he didn’t think he deserved them. Didn’t think it would make much difference. Though he supposed it could be worse, Sam could be pissed at him, yell at him, not touch him because he was disgusted by him… Sometimes he almost wished his brother would. Then at least Sam might be prepared for the worst. Be prepared to put him down like the animal he was becoming…

Dean sighed a little when his brother tried to reassure him that _this_ was him. The real him. The part that regretted his anger, but the worst part of it was, he didn’t regret it all. He regretted his loss of control. He regretted freaking his father, brother, not to mention himself, out so much. But he couldn’t deny the intense jealousy that still flashed through him when Sam mentioned _her_. He couldn’t deny the part of him that wanted to hold Sam, touch him, mark him, and make the younger man, and everyone else, know without a doubt who his brother belonged to. Was that him as well? If so which part of him was really the most dangerous part…

A small huff of laughter escaped him when Sam said he wanted to kill him for leaving marks on him in all the wrong places. Yeah, maybe his brother was pretty pissed about that, and he could understand why, but there was a big difference between that and what had happened this morning. Especially since Dean knew if he’d had a chance, in that moment, he might have actually gone through with it. Killing someone, and they both knew it.

But right now Dean was felt far too drained physically and emotionally to argue the point. Right now he was willing to pretend it wasn’t as bad as they both knew it to be, because he didn’t think he could handle the consequences otherwise. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as he let one of his hands move to cover his brother’s where they were wrapped around him. Lifting his head to look in the mirror, into Sam’s eyes, and giving the younger man a slight nod.

* * *

From the look Dean gave him, Sam knew Dean was done with the conversation. He might be, but Sam wasn’t.

Long moments passed as he worked up his courage and told Dean what was in his heart. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of this... of what’s happening to you. We’ll either stop it or deal with it." There wasn't even a hint of doubt in his voice, because he believed it. The road ahead could be hard, or very hard, but either way, they could deal with it together. Their lives had never been easy, anyway. "You wanna know what I’m afraid of Dean? Really scared shitless of?”

The way their gazes were still locked in the mirror, Sam knew Dean was listening... waiting. “Same thing you’re afraid of. Waking up one day and finding you gone.” He wouldn’t say suicide... he couldn’t, but that was the first thing that had been on his mind when he’d found his father pounding on a locked door. “We’re not so different, Dean. I need you.”

He heard the door to the room open and a look of sheer frustration crossed his features. Tightening his hold for a moment, he whispered in Dean’s ear. “I love you too.”

Pulling away, he slapped him on the back and opened the bathroom door. Walking into the room, he met his father’s dark, worried gaze. “It’s... it’s alright.” He could tell his dad wanted to talk to him alone, but he didn’t know how they’d pull it off, or if they even could. In all honesty, he just wanted some time to hold Dean for a little while longer.

* * *

Looking into his brother’s eyes, Dean wished he had half as much confidence in himself as Sam appeared to have in him. His brother had told him more than once that he was not afraid of him but he never thought he really believed it until now.

That almost scared him more, the amount of trust Sam had in him. He was so afraid that trust would backfire and Sam would pay for it, maybe even with his life. But at the same time he needed his brother to believe in him because if Sam didn’t… Dean knew he’d be long dead already. Nothing else would have stopped him from going off that bridge and nothing would have stopped him from pulling that trigger. Just Sam… believing he deserved to live.

It seemed Sam always knew what to say to make himself believe it too.

Dean heard their dad’s truck pull up outside even before he heard the door to the motel room open and the look of frustration on his brother’s face almost made him smile. His brother’s parting words should have made his heart feel all fluttery like a girl’s but instead Dean felt the bitter taste of jealousy once more in the back of his throat and knew for a fact this wasn’t over.

It wouldn’t be the last time something like this happened, because he knew he was completely incapable of sharing Sam with anyone else. Dean looked down at his hand gripping the edge of the sink and a cold feeling swept through him knowing next time it might not be his own blood he spilled.

***

John was already in the process of packing his things into his duffel when Sam emerged from the bathroom. When Dean didn’t emerge with his brother he knew his worry must have shown clearly on his face because Sam quickly assured him it was all right. They both knew that wasn’t the case, not by a long shot, but right now it seemed they were both willing to believe it.

So, John merely nodded even though there was so much more he wanted to say, ask, but there wasn’t any time as he continued throwing his clothes and other items quickly into his bag, prepared to be on the road within the next several minutes if it seemed like Sam was handling his brother ok. It seemed Sam was, better than he would have ever given the younger man credit for, and he felt a pang of guilt at that. Realizing his previous lack of faith in Sam had only widened the rift between father and sons when that was the last thing Dean needed right now. Dean needed his family there for him right now, together not divided.

“I’ll call when I reach Los Alamos. It shouldn’t take me more than a few days to find out if there’s any information we can use to track down Connall there. If anything happens, anything, call me, I’ll come back.” It was an order as well as a plea as John Winchester hefted his packed duffel over his shoulder. The older man lifted his other hand to place on his younger son’s shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. “I know you’ll take care of him.”

* * *

He knew the reminder to call if anything happened was a comment on the fact he hadn’t called before when things happened. When they’d run into werewolves and when Dean had tried to end his life. It didn’t stir up any anger though, not now when everything paled in comparison to what happened a short while ago.

“I will. Find him, dad,” Sam’s voice was husky with emotion as he nodded, acknowledging the squeeze on his shoulder. He walked all the way to the door, and would have probably gone to the car with his dad but Dean was still hiding in the bathroom, and leaving him alone was unthinkable.

Once he saw his father get into his car across the parking lot, Sam closed the door and headed for the bathroom. “Dean?” He pushed the door open wider and saw his brother hadn’t moved from in front of the mirror.

He could almost imagine the thoughts that had to be going through Dean’s head. About what he was turning into. What he’d be like. He’d bet his first fear was that he’d hurt the ones he loved. He knew no matter what he said, that Dean would hate himself and wouldn’t be quite able to separate the ‘disease’ from himself. “I’d do anything to take it away, Dean. Anything,” he whispered softly, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

* * *

It wasn’t Dean’s intention to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help overhearing his brother and his father speaking. Short of sticking his fingers in his ears and humming he probably would have heard them even if they had decided to talk outside, and Dean wasn’t going to resort to that any time soon. He’d made himself look like enough of an idiot already this morning.

Anyway it wasn’t so much what was said between Sam and their Dad that had Dean wincing it was the tone. The worry, the fear, for him he could pick up in both men’s voices was unmistakable, and maybe it made him the worst kind of coward that he didn’t even leave the bathroom to see his father off, not wanting to see that same fear in his father’s expression when the older man looked at him. He just didn’t think he could take that on top of everything else that had happened.

Then John was gone. He heard the motel room close. Heard the sound of his father’s truck driving away, and for the first time Dean truly hoped his dad would find something. Not that he hadn’t been hoping before, but he almost didn’t let himself acknowledge it before. Believing having that hoping and having those hopes dashed would be worse… but he was wrong. This was worse. Having no hope at all.

Dean didn’t look up at first when his brother returned and said his name. The elder man doing his best to compose himself so he wouldn’t lose it again in front of Sam. The younger man quiet for some time afterwards, as though giving him more time to do so, but his brother’s words, the expression on Sam’s face when Dean finally straightened and turned to face the younger man, pretty much eradicated that effort.

Dean closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, both giving and receiving comfort.

“I know, Sammy. I know. It’s ok.” He whispered against the younger man’s neck. It wasn’t, they both knew it wasn’t, but for Sam he could pretend.

* * *

It wasn’t okay. It wouldn’t be okay until they cured Dean. They had to find a way... had to. But until then, they could tolerate... they could take whatever happened. “We’re in this together, Dean,” he said, trying not to get choked up as he hugged his brother back, equally hard.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, but eventually they separated. He asked if Dean wanted coffee or breakfast, and without his brother answering, he just knew Dean didn’t want to be around people for a while. “Let’s just bring some coffee back,” he suggested, “come with me.”

They both knew that ordinarily Sam would have just stepped out and brought the drinks, but right now, there was no way he was leaving Dean alone. He didn’t know if Dean didn’t want to stay alone, or if he was doing this for him, but his brother merely nodded and came along.

When they returned to the room, and got on the bed to watch a little television and take some time out for themselves, there was a slightly awkward moment when each of them tried to put an arm around the other at the same time. Sam cleared his throat and laughed. “Your turn to be the chick,” he insisted, pulling Dean into the shelter of his arms. If he’d expected a fight, he didn’t find one. Not now.

Slowly, he felt Dean relax against him and slouch down, laying his head on his chest. “You’re hot like a furnace.” Sam brushed his mouth across Dean’s temple.

* * *

When Sam suggested they go get coffee, Dean didn’t argue. He didn’t really feel like eating anything at the moment after puking his guts out, but caffeine was always welcome. He didn’t even lift an eyebrow when his brother suggested they go together. Merely nodding as he moved to throw on some clothes quickly. Not really caring much about his appearance, he only ran his hand through his hair once as pulled on his boots, not even bothering to lace them up. Not like they’d be out long anyway.

Even though he didn’t really feel like going out, he also didn’t want Sam to go alone. At least, that’s what he told himself. Whatever his reasons, he _was_ eager for any kind of distraction right now. Anything that might get them past what had happened this morning. Back to normal, or at least normal for them. So he joined his brother walking across the parking lot to the diner. If he stood a little closer to the younger man than necessary as they waited for their coffee neither one of them mentioned it.

Soon they were back in the motel room, the tension draining out of the elder man almost immediately once they were back. Dean was a little ashamed to admit just how much more relaxed he already felt with Dad not around, watching their every move. Watching him. Where he could sit with his brother, touch him how he wanted, needed to, fucking _snuggle_ on the bed together and not have to worry about the consequences.

Dean snorted softly at his brother’s words as Sam wrapped his freakishly long arms around him, but he didn’t complain. Not now at least, it felt too good as he relaxed comfortably against his brother. Pretending like he was watching the television when really he was focused almost completely on the younger man, like he normally was these days, listening to the strong beat of the younger man’s heart beneath his ear.

“I’m fine, Sam.” He said softly before his brother could start worrying like he was getting a fever or something. His brother had worried about him enough today, he didn’t want him worrying even more.

* * *

“I know you are, but let’s just keep an eye on it, okay.” They’d been sleeping in the same bed for long enough that Sam felt the change. It reminded him of the days that Dean had been feverish, when they’d rescued him. Having seen how quickly Dean’s wounds closed earlier, a part of him wondered whether Dean could even get sick now, but he couldn’t shake the feeling.

He stroked upwards from Dean’s shoulder to his neck, back and forth until he brought his hand to a rest, cupping the side of Dean’s neck. They spoke a little, about nothing important. He didn’t know how Dean felt, but for Sam, just hearing his brother’s voice nice and steady was reassuring. And when Dean said anything funny, Sam laughed longer than he might otherwise.

Even Dean’s roar bordering on insulting, in response to the maid’s knock on the door to ask about room service, had Sam’s shoulder’s shaking. Teasing Dean about being a caveman, he just held him closer. “Now I have to explain to her how you’re crabby in the mornings,” he sighed. “And she’s gonna gip us on towels.”

* * *

A sound from the t.v. brought Sam awake with a start. Dean was resting heavily against him, which told him his brother was asleep too. Lifting his hand, he looked at his watch and was surprised he’d been out for a few hours. Then again, he hadn’t had much sleep last night.

Gently, he untangled Dean from himself and swung his feet off the bed. Running his fingers through his hair, he tried to wake up completely. As an afterthought, he reached for Dean’s forehead, his mouth tightening when he found his brother was still too warm.

* * *

What had started out as a crappy morning to end all crappy mornings was actually turning out not so bad, Dean had to admit. He didn’t even mind Sam treating him like the chick, even though they both knew his brother was the bitch in this relationship. Dean smiled a little at that thought, even though he didn’t say aloud right now. He was enjoying the feel of the younger man’s arms around him, Sam petting him, too much right now to risk his brother getting all pissy on him. Dean knew he’d definitely need to save that line for later though.

Feeling exhausted from the drama of the morning, not to mention lack of sleep from the night before, Dean drifted off into a thankfully dreamless sleep. He probably would have slept for a lot longer if his pillow hadn’t started moving around on him, ignoring his soft mumbled complaint, and pulling away from him. But not ready to get up himself Dean merely snuggled into the warm spot left behind with a sigh. Relaxing again and trying to go back to sleep, at least until he felt the light almost tickling brush across his forehead and tried to swat it away with a grumble of annoyance.

* * *

“Ow?” Startled and glaring at his brother, Sam muttered a few choice words and pulled away. Pulling his large frame off the bed, he raised his arms and stretched, then tilted his head to the side to get the kinks out.

He could use another coffee but he wasn’t leaving the room without Dean. He popped into the bathroom and got himself a cup of tap water, before coming back and sitting at the desk and flipping his computer on.

Blowing out a deep breath, he waited for it to boot up. There had to be something he’d missed. Something he could do. He needed another angle. Maybe researching things particular to werewolves was too narrow. What about ways and means of stopping other changes... curses... supernatural physical conditions... what about wish granting entities. Yeah... if there was a way here, he was gonna find it. His brother wasn’t going to be sentenced to a life of self loathing, not if he had anything to do with it.

* * *

Dean only slept for another hour or so. His sleep unfortunately fitful and uneasy ever since his brother left the bed. Of course he’d dreamt of the werewolves and his time he’d spent as a prisoner. That was almost a nightly ritual now. He couldn’t close his eyes for a minute without a fucking play by play of everything he’d much rather forget. Then there were the dreams of himself turning, killing innocents, killing Sam, ripping his father apart… He was really starting to get sick of it. Of not being able to sleep a full night without these damned dreams.

The elder man would bite off his own tongue before admitting aloud that he needed Sam sleeping next to him, like he was some kid that needed a big teddy bear or something, to keep the bad dreams away. Unfortunately that was pretty much what it amounted to. It was only when Sam was with him, when he could bury himself in the younger man’s touch, his scent, that the dreams, the fear, went away.

God he was pathetic…

Dean grumbled in annoyance under his breath as he rolled over, rubbing his eyes tiredly. How the hell he could still feel tired after just waking up, anyway? Pissed off at himself more than anything. He wasn’t a little kid. He shouldn’t let himself get all worked up over nightmares like this. Dean sighed and dropped his hand, turning his head to glance over at his brother clicking away at the keyboard on his laptop like the younger man normally was these days. Searching for a cure. Which he appreciated, sure, but damn it, they were alone now without Dad breathing down their necks, he wanted Sam with him right now not across the room.

He wanted to kiss, hug, fucking snuggle, and he really wanted to make out, maybe even fuck.

Dean grinned to himself as he slipped his hand underneath the covers, into his shorts, palming his dick that was already half hard just from waking up. Watching the younger man, waiting to see just how long it would take before Sam noticed.

* * *

Muttering under his breath, Sam went back to his search engine to try a new line of research. No matter what it took, he was to do this... find a way. He realized suddenly that Dean was still, that the uneasy sleep seemed to have left him.

Turning his head to check, as he’d been doing all along, he saw his brother’s eyes were open. Not fully, but narrow slits staring at him. His eyebrows quirked and he was about to ask a question when he noticed the small rhythmic movement of Dean’s hand. He wasn’t.... couldn’t be...

Turning quickly back to the lap top, he tried to pretend he hadn’t seen. He felt his cheeks burn, and knew his color was high, but he tried to cover. Staring at the computer screen became a chore. Trying to read was worse. Occasionally, he watched his brother’s leisurely movements under his lashes and felt his own body react.

His heart rate kicked up a notch. He swallowed, and tried to breathe normally. But there was nothing normal about this situation. He let out a hot breath and spoke as if to his computer screen. “You know, if you waited an hour, we’d be sure _he_ was across the state lines.” Yeah, that would make Sam feel a lot better about... this.

Another moment passed, and he pulled to his feet and walked to the door, taking his chair with him. Jamming its back under the knob, he made sure the door was secure and turned around.

Damn... how could Dean affect him like this? How could he make him do wild and crazy things... things he’d never contemplate on his own? He knew when to give up, when to stop fighting, and that was exactly what he was doing right now, giving up. He needed Dean, in more ways than one. It was as simple or complicated as that.

Reaching the foot of the bed, with his hands and knees straddling Dean’s body, he crawled up until his face hovered over Dean’s. Dipping his head down, he brushed his mouth over Dean's, then licked across the seam of his lips, pulling up just as Dean moved to kiss him.

“Uh uh...” He gave his brother a wicked smile. “If you want to fuck your hand, keep going, but if you want _me_... put your hands on the headboard,” he jutted his chin toward the low headboard, “...and let me do this my way. And Dean?” He lowered his body and dragged his hips up Dean’s thighs and groin, his eyes darkening. “No marking me anywhere visible, I mean it. So... what’s your decision?”

* * *

When Sam glanced back at him and then looked away quickly, pretending he hadn’t noticed what Dean was doing a grin pulled at the older man’s lips in amusement. As though his brother’s deep blush almost to the tips of his ears wasn’t enough of a clue, Dean had heard the hitch in Sam’s breath, not to mention he could smell the spike of arousal from the younger man making him instantly fully hard. But Dean resisted the urge to grip himself harder or stroke himself faster. Keeping the movements of his hand slow and easy, just shy of teasing himself, waiting for Sam to quit pretending like he didn’t want this just as much.

He watched his brother fidget in his chair for a few minutes and chuckled softly at his brother’s comment about their dad. But figured now probably wasn’t the time to remind Sam that they’d done plenty with John in the same town, not to mention the same room, to have his brother really worrying about state lines. What, did Sam really think their father had some kind of sixth sense of when they were going to fuck and he’d turn the truck around and head back just to interrupt them? Well, he supposed the amount of times Dad _had_ interrupted them while he was here, he’d almost begun to wonder, but still.

When his brother got up, dragging his chair to the door, Dean’s eyebrows rose and he outright laughed when Sam barred the door with it. He certainly wasn’t going to complain about the extra ‘protection’ though when his brother finally approached the bed and Dean licked his lips in anticipation as Sam crawled up over his body to kiss him softly.

The elder man’s first real sound of complaint leaving his lips when his brother wouldn’t let him deepen it and he raised his eyebrow when Sam made his demand. Looking from Sam, to the headboard, and back. His breath hitching and ending in a moan when the younger man rubbed up against him like a cat in heat, the fucking tease. As though he could have even considered saying no to his brother after that.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a real demanding bottom?” Dean asked with feigned annoyance, but he couldn’t deny he was intensely curious, not to mention turned on, about what his brother had planned. So Dean ‘obediently’ pulled his hand out from under the covers, lifting both arms above his head as his brother wanted, grasping the headboard.

* * *

“A demanding _what_? Did you just call me an ass?” Sam frowned and was about to start an argument, but when his brother seemed to relent and grabbed the headboard, he forgot what it was he was supposed to be mad at. Dean was gonna let him have his way. And yeah, he’d demanded it, but that didn’t mean a part of him hadn’t been sure Dean would steamroll over him and do this his way.

The words ‘thank you’ tried to well up past his lips, but he clamped down on them. They would be joke fodder later, he knew that... he knew Dean, and it so wasn’t happening. But what was happening was this...

Sam peeled Dean’s shirt up and off him, waiting until Dean clasped the headboard again, before lowering himself over his brother. “Don’t move.” He knew he couldn’t fight Dean so he had to count on his honoring his word, but the reminder wouldn’t hurt. He quickly stripped down to his boxers, tossing his clothes off the side of he bed, and settling back down on over his brother.

He moved his mouth over Dean’s, brushing over it, kissing him lightly, then progressively harder, like he was experimenting. When he felt Dean try to suck his tongue inside his mouth, he lifted his head and frowned. “My turn to play Dean, stop that.”

Pleased at the look of frustration crossing over his brother’s face, and ten times more pleased by the control his brother exhibited... for him... Sam went down on his mouth again. This time he didn’t pull any punches. He crushed their mouths together, kissing him hard, his tongue never stopping, battling Dean’s, exploring every corner until they were both breathless and he pulled up.

His breath was labored. His heart about ready to come out of his chest. He took his time watching his brother intently. He hovered over his mouth, felt his brother surge, but side stepped him and started to kiss his face. Hearing the wood of the bed creak, he looked up and smiled. “Good, you’re actually listening.” Stretching, he kissed up Dean’s arm, feeling his muscles straining under his lips, then moving to the other one. His chest was now over Dean’s face and he lowered himself, shuddering at the feel of Dean’s mouth against him.

He scooted back down. “I thought you’d like to know how you make me feel when you’re holding me, fucking me,” he said, looking Dean straight in the eyes. “Sometimes I can’t breath. Sometimes you won’t let me move. Sometimes you’re so fucking dangerous I think my heart will stop.” He saw something flash in his brother’s eyes, and shook his head. “Like this.”

Dipping his head down, he wrapped his teeth around Dean’s adam’s apple, threatening his air... threatening to bite, but then licking and kissing him before he came back up. “Did your heart go weird? Adrenalin shoot through you? But you knew nothing bad would happen, right? That’s how I feel.”

He used his knees and hands to trap Dean completely, prevent him from moving. “Know what else? I hate that you can do this... that you can easily stop me from moving a muscle. Sometimes I want to shout at you because of it... and then... it’s also what I like best. Like if you didn’t do that, I’d... I’d ask you to. Weird, huh?” Feeling heat climb up his face at the admission, Sam bent down and licked his way down Dean’s throat, scraping his teeth on his chest and laving it better. Maybe he’d said too much, maybe this would all come back and bite him in the ass later.

To distract himself from the sudden uncertainty that filled him, Sam started to play with Dean. He gave it all he had, teasing his flesh, tasting him, touching him just so... reveling in the sounds he made, and always... always, his brother kept his word, kept his hands on the headboard.

It made Sam happy, it told him more about Dean than Dean could ever explain in words. Choking on a laugh, he tortured Dean’s nipple, then moved again, down to his belly, biting him near his belly button and then tonguing him until Dean practically came up off the bed. “Whoa, I’m getting there... hold your horses,” he said, nudging Dean’s boxers down to reveal his fully aroused cock. “This for me, Dean?” He looked up.

* * *

Dean raised an eyebrow, wondering just what the hell Sam was getting pissy over _now_. Call him an ass? No he hadn’t, he’d called him a… then the older man had to fight back the urge to laugh realizing Sam had no idea what the term meant and he now had new material to tease his ‘sheltered’ baby brother with. Later. Because suddenly Sam was looking at him in a way that made all the hilarity die abruptly inside of him, causing heat to rush straight to his cock instead.

Sam’s fingers barely touched him at all when the younger man carefully eased his shirt up off of him but they left a scorching path nonetheless along his skin that prickled in anticipation for more. Dean made a soft impatient sound in the back of his throat when the younger man ordered him again not to move. But when his brother finally pressed his body against him, kissing him softly, a moan of pleasure escaped his lips instead as the kiss slowly deepened.

But it was too slow, not enough, he wanted to taste Sam fully, yet when he tried to pull his brother in deeper, Sam moved away instead, scolding him. A growl of frustration built up in the back of his throat, Dean’s first instinct to grab the back of his brother’s head and force the other man closer. To seal their mouths together, kiss his brother till they could barely breathe, practically fucking the younger man’s mouth with his tongue, but he didn’t.

He’d promised Sam he’d let him control this, and as much as he needed to feel his brother’s flesh beneath his hands, his tongue in his mouth, his cock buried in his ass, he kept his hands locked above him. Though he gripped the headboard just a little bit tighter when Sam gave in and gave him what he wanted. What they both wanted. Groaning in pleasure as they devoured each other like men dying from hunger, so hard his lips ached and they were both left panting breathless when Sam pulled away again.

Dean’s entire body felt feverish with desire, his lips tingling with the caress of the younger man’s breath ghosting across them and he couldn’t stop himself from trying to kiss Sam again. Groaning again in frustration when his brother avoided him, kissing his face, up his arm. His muscles trembling under the soft press of the younger man’s lips, and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing and licking the soft skin of Sam’s chest when his brother leaned over him. Tasting his brother’s flesh, nipping lightly at a peaked nipple when it came close, and groaning yet again in frustration when the younger man moved away far too soon.

At this point Dean certainly wasn’t expecting the younger man to want an in depth conversation from him, but being Sam he probably should have. However when Sam called him dangerous Dean’s eyes widened in surprise, guilt and fear flashing though him almost strong enough to make him forget about his arousal. Almost. But Sam didn’t let him. His pulse shooting through the roof when he felt his brother’s teeth at his throat, his cock jumping and leaking all the more as Sam ‘explained’ to him how he made him feel.

He had no idea… or maybe he did, maybe unconsciously… But why was Sam telling him this now? How he liked it when he took control, when Sam had ‘asked’ for control now? He wasn’t sure he fully understood… All he really knew was that Sam had just told him something extremely personal, judging by the deep blush that stained his brother’s cheeks afterwards. Sam didn’t let him think on it for too long however as the younger man proceeded to ‘attack’ him with his lips and tongue. Making Dean moan and squirm beneath his mouth and hands.

“Sam!” He shouted as his brother teased his nipples almost to the point of pain before moving lower. His brother shoving the covers away as Sam moved lower down his body. Arching beneath the younger man, his underwear damp and sticky from his own fluids by this point, and his cock so hard it was painful. Fuck but he needed Sam to quit fucking teasing him! Dean almost growled at his brother when Sam told him to ‘hold his horses’, while his brother friggen tortured him, making him wait. He almost whined when Sam finally peeled his boxers down ever so slowly, freeing his cock. His brother’s mouth so fucking close to where he wanted it…

“Fuck… Sam, please…” Dean begged unashamedly, lifting his hips.

* * *

“Sure Dean, anything you want,” Sam’s mouth curved into a smile. He walked his fingers down Dean’s thighs, circling back to his inner thighs, loving how Dean tried to move his body to get him to touch his cock.

Sam curled one finger at a time around Dean’s cock, grasping him lightly, mouth parting as he felt Dean thicken and lengthen in his hand. He weighed and measured Dean, running his thumb up the underside of his cock. It was like satin covered steel, so fucking hard, closing his eyes he groaned at the thought of having Dean inside him... ramming himself so deep...

He licked is lips and bent his head, using his tongue to lap up the clear liquid bead at his tip. “Mmm, more,” he demanded, probing Dean’s slit and running his tongue around his head. Looking up, he gauged Dean’s reactions, his own cock hardening at that dark, hungry look creeping into Dean’s eyes.

Dipping his head down low between Dean’s thighs, Sam swabbed the flat of his tongue up the entire length of Dean’s shaft, moved a fraction over and did it again, and again, slowly moving around the circumference of Dean’s cock. He couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else, not a single person. But he couldn’t imaging _not doing this_ with Dean. Go figure.

The sounds Dean made sent the blood rushing even hotter to Sam’s cock, making him work harder, teasing Dean until he was on the brink of probably grabbing his head and forcing his mouth down over him. “Right here, bro,” he said, letting his breath fan over his brother’s dick before he finally took him in his mouth. Swallowing as much of his as he could, he sucked and pulled up off Dean, leaving his engorged cock wet and shiny.

Moving lower, he licked Dean’s balls, sucking lightly before plunging his mouth down over his cock again and moving up and down his shaft, harder and faster, mercilessly working him until Dean’s hips were snapping up off the mattress. _Yes... oh yes... oh fuck yes._

His brother’s frenzied movements were driving Sam to the edge. What would happen if he released Dean from his promise? Would he be rough and show him the depths of his need? Would he growl in his ear, tell him how much he wanted him, would he fuck him within an inch of his life, and pull back only because his protective instincts were just that strong?

As Dean started to stiffen, his balls drawing up, Sam pulled his mouth off with a wet pop. “Don’t come,” he said, on the verge of panic. He crawled up Dean’s body, letting Dean rub his cock into him, into his chest, and stomach, until he was level with his brother.

He kissed him hard, plunging his tongue into Dean’s mouth and stroking him, letting him taste himself. When he raised his head, his eyes were glazed with lust. “I’m done playing, Dean. Please fuck me, like you want to.” His voice was hoarse and unfamiliar. “Fuck me.”

* * *

Dean groaned as he felt an insane urge to smack that cocky teasing smile right off his brother's face, at the same time it made his blood boil with lust. The elder man's fingernails digging so deeply into the headboard by now he was bound to leave rents in the soft wood but he hardly gave a damn. Not when he felt like Sam was trying to drive him insane with his almost feather light touches along his hips and cock. His lower body bucking underneath his brother while his arms trembled, somehow, he had no idea how at this point, keeping himself from just grabbing his brother and forcing the younger man's mouth down on him where he wanted it.

He hissed between his teeth, watching with hungry eyes as Sam tasted him slowly. The sight of the younger man's tongue petting and playing with his cock as his brother savored him making him leak profusely and his eyes nearly roll back in his head because as good as it felt it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

"Fuck… Sam…" Dean moaned in frustration, digging his heels into the mattress, his sweat covered thighs trembling, as Sam's tongue continued to paint him with fire that slowly burned away his sanity. All but screaming when his brother took him into his mouth sucking him hard but pulling off him again before Dean could even thrust once into that exquisite wet heat.

"Sam! Fuck, Sam… fuck!" The elder man groaned over and over, the only two words he seemed capable of at the moment, his head thrashing from side to side as Sam laved at his balls and as good as it felt it wasn't what he wanted. Wasn't what he needed. When Sam finally gave it to him, taking him back into his mouth, into his throat, as deeply as he could, Dean's entire body drew taunt with the strain from holding back. To keep from coming immediately as Sam's lips and tongue did positively evil things to his engorged weeping flesh. His body twisting in pleasure beneath his brother, his hips snapping up to fuck himself deeper into the younger man's mouth.

Fuck, he was so close to coming when Sam abruptly pulled his mouth away from him again it was torture and Dean let out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. Making a sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl when Sam slid up the length of his body and Dean couldn't stop himself from rubbing his aching arousal against his brother but that wasn't the way he wanted to come. The kiss he returned to his brother almost as punishing as it was loving and needy for Sam leaving him like this.

But then his brother was begging Dean, begging him for what they both wanted so badly, to fuck him, and whatever control the elder man had snapped in an instant. With a growl Dean grasped his brother by the hips and rolled them both over, pinning Sam beneath him as he devoured the younger man's mouth. Surely bruising his brother's lips with the kiss but he didn't give a damn. Only one thought, one need, to be inside his lover, controlling him, loving him, making Sam his.

But then, almost against his will, he remembered before, how much he'd hurt Sam the first time, and that kept him from doing what every base need in him screamed, just plunging into his brother's body and fucking him with abandonment. Instead grasping himself around the base of his cock with a hiss, trying to hold off his orgasm and groaning in frustration as he pulled away from Sam's lips and body.

"Don't. Fucking. Move." Dean growled the order in such a way that promised dire consequences if Sam disobeyed him as he pushed himself up off of his brother's body completely. Practically limping towards the bathroom to get what he needed where he'd seen it before. That little complimentary basket of shit all motels seemed to have, soap, shampoo, and this time, hand lotion. It was better than nothing.

Dean quickly returned to the bedroom, groaning and biting his lip as he stared down at Sam lying there waiting for him. So fucking beautiful and already looking fucked out as Dean climbed back onto the bed. With another soft growl he grasped his brother's shorts and literally ripped them off the younger man's legs before situating himself between them. Pulling them apart and forcing the younger man's knees practically to his chest. Licking his lips hungrily as he stared at his brother so beautiful and open for him. Just begging to be fucked.

"Don't move." Dean repeated, snapping the bottle of lotion open with his teeth and coating his fingers. Not even bothering to warm it up first before slipping them between his brother's cheeks. Coating the younger man's quivering hot hole with a groan before plunging two deeply into the younger man in one smooth motion.

* * *

The instant his plea to be fucked left his mouth, Sam felt hard hands grip his hips and their positions were reversed faster than he could blink. He couldn’t even get his brother’s name past his lips since Dean’s tongue shot deep inside his mouth.

Sam’s head spun. His world tilted as Dean dominated him, using his weight to keep him still, his legs bracketed around his thighs, his cock aggressively lined up against Sam’s hole, his tongue fucking... owning him. _Yes, oh yes,_ Sam wildly lifted his hips, rubbing his aching cock up against Dean, pleading wordlessly to be fucked.

Then Dean was ordering him not to move and Sam thought it was payback, or something. _No, you can’t fucking leave me like this._ He stared wide eyed as Dean strode away, clearly aroused. How could he? How could he walk away? Sam wanted to follow him, to force him to turn around, to make him give them what they both needed. If it hadn’t been for that warning tone, he’d have acted on his instincts.

Then Dean was coming back and he had something in his hand. Head slightly back, Sam was still panting out his breaths through parted lips, devouring Dean with his eyes... begging him to stop fucking around. Then Dean was standing near him, his eyes so fucking hungry, Sam could barely breath. A lifetime passed. A low moan broke from him.

Then Dean was moving so fast, Sam could barely track him. Dean’s impatient growl as he tore his boxers off had him smiling, but he was damned startled to find his legs spread and his knees effortlessly forced to his chest. Too exposed. Too vulnerable, he started to change his position until Dean ordered him again not to move. Whimpering in protest, suddenly he found his hole being teased.

“Dean!” He lifted his hips slightly as Dean’s fingers invaded him, touched him from the inside. Between his legs, he could see Dean’s face, the intensity of the heat in his eyes was scorching. His fingers slid in and out of him, pushing the wet lotion inside, preparing him for what he wanted.

Just the thought of Dean inside him, stretching him with his thick cock, plunging into him, had Sam groaning again. He reached for Dean’s shoulders, trying to pull him up, but his brother wasn’t having it. His hand wandered down to his leaking cock and he started to stroke himself, watching Dean through hazel eyes filled with need and a hint of impatience. He started to lift his hips up each time Dean’s fingers went deeper, and stroked himself harder, but it wasn’t what he wanted... he fucking wanted Dean inside him.

“Stop fucking around. Dean, fuck me. Need to feel you inside me,” he half cried, half demanded. “Come on, Dean. Fuck me.”

* * *

“So fucking hot, Sam…” Dean groaned deeply in his chest, licking his lips as he watched the movement of the younger man’s fingers playing over his shaft while the elder man’s fingers were buried deeply in his brother’s ass. Sam looked like he belonged in an obscene porno the way he jacked himself off, writhing and trying to fuck himself on his fingers as they thrust in and out of his body. The sounds Sam made while his fingers were circling and scissoring inside of him, preparing his brother for his cock. The younger man begging, no _demanding_ that Dean fuck him right now.

Fuck, but Sam was going to make him blow his load without ever being inside of him.

With a sound of almost impatience Dean grasped the wrist of the hand his brother was using to play with himself and pulled his hand almost roughly away. Pinning it above his head as he leaned over the younger man, thrusting his fingers a little more roughly inside his tight hole.

“I told you not to move.” Dean whispered, teasing, even though he was just as impatient as his brother to be inside of the younger man but he was determined to do it right this time. To not hurt his brother like he had before not preparing him well enough, so Dean forced himself to wait no matter how much it tortured them both as he slid a third finger into the younger man’s tight body. Leaning in to kiss his brother hard, thrusting his tongue into Sam’s mouth at the same pace he thrust his fingers into his body.

By the time he drew back, panting, pulling his fingers out of his brother’s body, and used more lotion to slick up his aching cock the wait was near driving him insane. He’d held back for as long as he possibly could and Dean wasted no more time positioning himself at the younger man’s slick quivering hole. Biting his lip as he plunged past any resistance into his brother with a fierce snap of his hips, barely waiting for Sam to adjust to the intrusion before he started to fuck the younger man hard and deep.

* * *

The force with which Dean grasped his wrist and prevented him from jacking off against his wishes sent a new surge of heat directly to Sam's cock. Groaning, he lifted his hips uselessly... meeting only air as his brother trapped his hand above his head.

“Please... Dean please...” he was almost feverish with need as he fucked himself against Dean’s fingers, his pleas were cut off when Dean shut him up with his mouth. _Hot_ didn’t cover it, didn’t cover how it felt to be finger banged and tongue banged, unable to move, to ask for more, and barely able to breathe.

He mentally screamed for more, his free hand grabbing at Dean’s back, trying to pull him closer, to urge him to give him what he needed. So strong, Dean was so fucking strong, he couldn’t budge him. The assault on his senses went on and on until he thought he might cry or something, and then Dean was off him.

“Don’t stop, Dean, I need...” Then he felt Dean line up with his hole, wet and slick, his cock insistently pressed against his hole. “Yes, please.” Seeing his brother bite his lower lip, Sam emulated him, his head jerking back as Dean rammed his dick all the way inside. Despite the flash of blinding pain, Sam took satisfaction in seeing Dean couldn’t wait... that he needed to fuck as much as Sam did.

Finally. Finally Dean was inside him, stretching him, branding him from the inside. A little pain was nothing compared to the pleasure he got watching his brother’s face, seeing his eyes darken with hunger, or from the waves of intense heat washing over him each time Dean’s cock hit him just right.

Raising his legs, he locked them around Dean’s waist, lifting his ass up, and dragging his knees up, forcing Dean closer even as he submitted to him in every way possible. “So good, Dean so damned good,” he panted, his fingers biting into Dean’s shoulders. He thought neither of them would last long... he was wrong. They were both covered with a sheen of sweat, their breaths labored, his own muscles strained, and yet he was urging his brother to keep driving into him.

“God... oh Dean...” He could feel himself get close and his moans grew more urgent. “Tell me what it feels like,” he begged, eyes locking with Dean’s, knowing he was about to go over the edge.

* * *

The sounds of hot feverish skin slapping together, the straining creaks the bed underneath them made, their grunts, groans, and moans of pleasure filling the room were the most obscene things Dean had ever heard in his life and he fucking loved every second of it. He hoped the people in the next room were getting off on it as much as he was because he didn’t give a damn who heard them right now.

This was what he’d wanted. This was what he’d needed. Sam underneath him, whimpering and clinging to him as he fucked his baby brother through the mattress. Driving deep into the younger man’s body with every eager thrust of his hips. Grasping his brother’s hips tightly as Sam’s fingers clutched at his shoulder. Lifting the younger man higher so he could plunge even deeper into him again and again. Groaning in pleasure, knowing he was hitting his brother’s sweet spot every time the younger man’s muscles spasmed around his cock tighter. Fucking. Claiming. Owning.

“Sam… god, Sammy…” Dean panted his brother’s, his lover’s, name over and over. Sweat dripped down his brow, stinging his eyes, down his neck, back, and chest from the exertion. He was hot, so fucking hot he was burning up inside and he didn’t care. Sam was hotter. So damn hot and tight around his dick and he never wanted to leave that heat. Never wanted to leave Sam’s body. Locked together so intimately. He never wanted to leave this moment.

“So good, so good, baby brother. Perfect.” Dean whispered, panting even harder at his brother’s request. Feeling the younger man’s body tightening even more around him he knew Sam was about to go over the edge and he was right there with him. With a groan he snapped his hips just a little harder, a little faster, making sure to hit the center of his brother’s pleasure with every deep stroke of his dick. “You’re so damn hot. So damn tight. Feels so good around my cock, baby. Want you to come. Come for me, Sammy. Lemme watch you.”

* * *

Sam knew he’d left ‘normal’ behind long ago, but when his heart lurched at being called ‘baby brother’ in the heat of sex, he knew he must have crossed over to deviant. He’d liked it... his entire body had responded, tightening, clenching around Dean’s cock, and around his waist.

Dean was fucking him so hard, whispering to him, and talking dirty until Sam didn’t know whether he was coming or going. Then Dean asked him to come, and Sam wanted to so bad, so bad, but when Dean added he wanted to ‘watch,’ a sense of apprehension washed over Sam. No one looked good when they were... and yet Dean was looking down at him, like he was the only thing important to him right now. If he hadn’t said that, Sam would have had no qualms.

They came together a couple more times, hard. Still Dean was searching his face, waiting. Sam would just have to trust him. Nodding, he let go. His mouth parted as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Dean... oh fuck... Dean...” He started to thrash and shimmy against Dean, growing wild with abandon. Cries broke from the back of his throat, and he couldn’t stop them. Feverish and incoherent, he whipped one arm across his face, using his forearm to muffle his shout of pleasure as he came hot and hard, his seed spreading across his stomach and Dean’s. Eyes rolled back slightly, he held his breath, waiting for Dean’s release.

* * *

“Fuck, Sammy…” Dean groaned deeply when he felt his brother tighten around him, so much it almost hurt, but felt better than anything he’d ever felt before in his life. Feeling his little brother so hot and clinging around him. Sam was so damned beautiful when he was out of control with pleasure. His body shaking, moaning incoherently, so wild. Wild like him…

“Yes, Sammy. That’s it. That’s it…” He encouraged, running his palms up and down the younger man’s sweat slicked body. Gasping as Sam clenched around his cock impossibly tight, his brother’s expression almost of pain as the younger man shot thick ropes of spunk across his stomach and chest. Covering his mouth to muffle his cries of pleasure but Dean was having none of it.

“Don’t.” He hissed, grabbing both of his brother’s wrists and pinned them above his head. It was so fucking hot watching Sam come Dean could only manage to thrust hard and deep into his brother one last time before he came as well, shouting Sam’s name as he filled the younger man up with his seed. His body convulsing like he was having a seizure, shaking and moaning. His arms holding other man’s the only thing that kept him from simply collapsing spent on top of his brother.

“Oh fuck, Sam…” Dean panted, feeling like all the strength had just been sucked right out of him when he came. If he didn’t know better he might have suspected his brother for being a succubus, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle a little as he pressed his lips to the younger man’s chest, his neck, licking his brother’s lips before kissing his brother with a deep groan of satisfaction.

* * *

Sam only made a single sound of protest when he found his arms pinned above his head and was unable to use it to stifle the loud moans that accompanied his climax. The sheer command in Dean's voice was enough to keep him from fighting or finding another way to quiet down.

It was his turn to watch his brother and by the almost vicious strength he applied around his wrists as he came deep and hard inside Sam, Sam couldn't doubt that Dean's release had been as soul shattering. As Dean spasmed, Sam kept lifting his hips, kept up the pressure until they both ran out of strength.

As Dean's mouth made its way back to his, Sam made a little sound, putting his freed arms around his brother's shoulders. Pulling on him. Stroking him like he could never get enough. He chased Dean's teasing tongue, meeting it with his, and then drew back as Dean's tongue invaded his mouth

He gave Dean an answering groan of his own as their tongues tangled, their bodies still in motion though barely moving. When their lips separated, Sam smiled. "What are you laughing at? Or maybe I shouldn't ask." Deliberately, he lifted his hips again, one last time before he unlocked his legs and finally lowered them to the bed.

Once Dean eased out of him, he clenched his ass, testing. Yeah... he'd feel Dean for a while, but it wasn't like the last time, he didn't hurt like that. "We're gonna be thrown out of here. The neighbor's are gonna complain. Oh God, maybe we can get another room, where they won't know its us," he babbled, trying to come to grips with the intensity of their experience. It had made him forget everything. No, not it, Dean had made him forget.

Running his hand up Dean's shoulder and cupping his neck, he pulled him down so he could speak in his ear. "You were right yesterday. It's not just sex." Closing his eyes, afraid to bare more of his soul, he rolled them to their side. "You don't have to say anything, Dean. I know." Again he smiled as he let Dean off the hook on what could have been a chick flick moment.

* * *

Dean merely smiled when his brother asked him what he was laughing at, and then quickly went on to deny he wanted to know. The elder man chuckled again softly, shaking his head, wisely deciding to keep his thoughts to himself if he wanted to get laid again anytime soon.

He moaned softly when his brother lifted his hips one last time, sending an aftershock of pleasure though him that made his body tremble before he gently pulled out of the younger man with a sigh. Missing the tight warmth of his brother’s body already but he knew Sam had to be sore, the way Dean had fucked him so hard, and he didn’t want to add to that discomfort.

Dean almost asked his brother if he was all right, when Sam went on to babble about how loud they’d been and he knew the younger man couldn’t be in too much pain or he wouldn’t be bitching this soon. But before he could tease his brother about being overly paranoid, and it’s not like the motel probably hadn’t had its share of loud kinky sex couples, probably some of their best clientele.

Then Sammy was pulling him close, whispering into his ear, and the younger man’s words left him feeling weak and all fluttery inside like some kind of chick. He didn’t know what to say and was glad that his brother apparently didn’t expect him to say anything. He just returned the younger man’s smile, gathering Sam in his arms and kissed him softly.

Settling next to his brother for what he expected to be a nice after sex nap, Dean closed his eyes. Running his fingers through the younger man’s hair, down his back, over his buttocks. Touching Sam everywhere lovingly and possessively.

“Love you too, Sammy.” Dean whispered barely more than a breath before he drifted off into an easy slumber with his brother next to him.

* * *

He really hadn’t expected Dean to respond, but when his brother did, Sam’s smile broadened. He laid there for another few minutes, catching his breath and getting his heart rate back under control. Guess he didn’t need that run, after all.

“You wanna take a shower and grab food? Dean?” Sam opened his eyes and lifted up, “Dean? Dude you fell asleep on me… that’s so not cool.” Yeah, like he hadn’t done that before only to have his girlfriend complain. Now he understood, kinda sorta.

He rolled out of bed and hesitated, before going ahead and getting a wet cloth to clean Dean up. If he woke up, great, and if he didn’t… that was fine. To his surprise, Dean didn’t wake, but only muttered his protests. Shaking his head, Sam covered him up and headed for the bathroom.

He took a pretty long shower, letting the hot water relax him. All the while, he half expected Dean would come in and join him.

When he was through, he got dressed and said Dean’s name again. His brother was still asleep. “Dean, I gotta go get a sandwich, okay?” No answer. Again shaking his head, he wrote a large note so Dean wouldn’t freak out, and left it on the bed.

Fifteen minutes later, he was back with sandwiches and a couple bottles of water. Sure Dean would prefer if he brought beers, but he wasn’t about to be away from Dean for longer than he absolutely needed to. This morning and the things he’d said about being afraid of being left alone were wake up calls, and Sam wasn’t about to ignore them.

“Dean?” Quirking his brow, Sam waved the pastrami sandwich under Dean’s nose. “Don’t tell me I fucking killed you with sex.” Putting the food down, he shook Dean’s shoulder, and frowned. Moving his hand to Dean’s forehead, his frown deepened. “Dean, dude you’re burning hot. Wake up.” Opening one of the bottles of water, he sat on the bed and shook Dean again. “Dean!”

* * *

Dean groaned at the rough shaking, and his brother’s voice shouting at him.

What the hell? He was tired, damn it. Why couldn’t Sam just let him sleep? He forced his eyes open, not that his brother was giving him much choice to do otherwise, even still it was quite an effort to keep them open. Dean frowned when he managed to finally focus on the younger man’s worried face.

What was wrong? Had something happened?

“What?” Dean asked, trying to push himself up a little only to fall back weakly against the bed. What the hell? His head was spinning.

He could smell food, and his stomach clenched almost as though rebelling at the simple thought of eating. Dean closed his eyes again and fought back the feelings of nausea.

He was hot. He could feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck and along his chest. His blood felt like it was burning his veins as it passed through them, pumped by a heart that was beating too fast.

“I don’t feel right.” Dean groaned, and maybe he was even sicker than he thought for stupidly stating the obvious.

* * *

"You're burning up. Here, have some water," Sam answered, forcing the bottle into Dean's hand and making him sit up a little. Pulling the sheet down his brother's body, he confirmed what he already knew, that the werewolf bite on his thigh was healed. There were no other recent wounds that might be infected.

"Earlier, did you cut yourself on anything? Iron?" He'd seen the claw marks in Dean's palms, that's where the blood was from as far as he knew, but maybe there was more? "Either something like that, or you're getting sick." Considering his brother's newly gained powers of healing, that seemed very odd. Unless it was part of the changing into a wolf cycle, which wasn't a theory he was going to put out there.

He touched Dean's forehead again. "You should take a cool shower to bring your temperature down." The way Dean had flopped down, Sam wasn't sure how bad he was feeling and whether he could stand. "I'll help."

* * *

Dean nodded, and then groaned again, immediately regretting the movement. Allowing Sam to help him sit up and taking the offered water. Sipping it slowly, afraid if he drank too fast the nausea he felt would just make the water come back up again and he didn’t feel like puking again today.

Fuck. What the hell? He’d been feeling fine just a little while ago. Well, maybe not completely fine. Maybe he’d had a bit of a fever, but nothing like this.

“No.” He answered his brother’s question of whether he’d cut himself on anything earlier, shaking his head and cursing under his breath. Fuck, he had to stop doing that. Maybe when he’d puked earlier it hadn’t just been because he’d freaked out? Maybe he really was getting sick? Maybe he had food poisoning or something.

God damn it, that was all they needed right now.

“Yeah, ok.” Dean agreed, this time remembering not to nod, to his brother’s suggestion of taking a cold shower, but the prospect of moving right now wasn’t sounding all that pleasant. He was proved right when he tried to push himself more upright again and swayed, and if he hadn’t grabbed onto his brother when he had he probably would have ended up on the floor.

“Fuck…” He gasped.

* * *

Sam bore Dean’s weight and helped him back onto the bed, looking worriedly at him. “I knew, I knew you were too hot.” The fact his brother didn’t make a crack about that told him a lot. “Okay, relax,” he arranged the pillows so Dean could half sit up.

A few minutes later, he was applying cool compresses to Dean’s forehead, neck and chest, despite his brother’s grumbling. “Have I mentioned you make the worst patient,” he huffed. He hoped it wouldn’t get as bad as when Dean first got away from the werewolves. They’d had a damned rough night, with his temperature creeping up and scaring the shit out of Sam.

When he’d done the best he could, Sam started to pace the length of the room, the sandwiches now forgotten. The inclination to take Dean to see a doctor was strong, but what if the doc detected something was off and wanted blood tests? It would all be over, the secrecy. No, he had to take care of Dean on his own.

After he had him take a couple of Tylenol, he watched as his brother’s heavy lidded eyes strove to stay open. “Maybe you should sleep some more.”

* * *

Dean allowed his brother to settle him back into bed without complaint or insistence he could do it himself which said a lot because even if he couldn’t normally he’d at least make a show of trying. If only so Sam wouldn’t worry so damn much. Instead all he could manage was a soft groan as Sam rearranged him carefully back into bed.

He barely managed only a few halfhearted protests to his brother’s pampering, more out of the fact that he hated that scared look in his brother’s eyes as the younger man tended to him willing to replace it with anything else, even annoyance. At least it worked to a degree, Dean huffing a small laugh at the other man’s complaint about him being a bad patient. Not like Sam himself wasn’t a worse one.

Dean watched his brother’s worried pacing, though it was difficult by this point to even keep his eyes open. He swallowed the pills the younger man gave him and gave a slight nod of agreement when Sam suggested he sleep. He took the younger man’s hand, giving it a soft squeeze of reassurance.

“You should eat, and don’t look so damned worried. Just caught a stupid bug, I’ll be fine.”

* * *

“Yeah, okay.” He said that but it was hard to shrug it off. Crossing over to dad’s bed, he sat down and dry washed his face. What if it got worse? Should he be calling his dad right now? And what if his dad turned around and got back, and then Dean was all better? Then they’d have wasted precious time.

Feeling Dean’s eyes and seeing his struggle to keep awake, he snapped out an order. “Sleep. You need it.”

Over the next few hours, Sam tried to remain quiet, mostly working on research, and making a couple of call from just outside their door. Yeah, he knew now that Dean’s hearing could pick up everything he said even out there, but his goal was to try not to disturb him, and if he was asleep, volume counted for something.

He checked Dean’s temperature every so often, shaking his head at the fact that it wasn’t going down. At all. He’d already stripped the bed of blankets, and put only a wet sheet over Dean in an attempt to cool him. Their room had no air conditioner, just a heater, but he had the window open slightly and it was crisp out there.

It was dinner time by the time he remembered to eat. After he ate his now cold sandwich and chugged down some water, he ran a cool bath and went to wake Dean up. “Dean, wake up. I need to get you to the bathroom, and you need to drink and eat something. Dean.” He tried to lift his brother up as he shook him awake. “Come on man, you’re still burning up. I think we gotta get you into the tub.”

* * *

  


Dean let go of his brother's hand, his eyes following Sam as the younger man moved away to sit on the other bed. He could tell Sam was still worrying, despite his words, but there wasn't much he could do about that. Sam was going to worry regardless of what he said until he was better. So when the younger man told him to go to sleep, Dean didn't argue. Rest would help him recover and he hoped he'd sleep this off soon enough, whatever it was.

After that he didn't wake much during the day, at least not for very long, that he remembered. At some point during the day he'd woken when he felt Sam strip the sheets and blankets off of him. Grumbling unhappily at the cold wet sheet that was draped over him instead but he fell again soon after.

Tossing fitfully and moaning softly in pain as the fever spiked. He had dreams that he was on fire. That he was burning up from the inside out. Blood pumping through his veins like boiling acid. Dean groaned when he felt Sam shaking him, lifting him up. He understood what Sam was saying, though only barely. He could barely force his eyes open, and couldn't make himself focus on his brother's worried face.

"Burns…" He slurred barely coherent.

* * *

"I know, Dean, that's what we're gonna try to take care of," he answered, not real hopeful that Dean would understand everything. "I've got you… let's go." Dean could hardly bear any of his own weight, so Sam practically picked him up. If his brother hadn't been so sick, he might have teased him a bit.

It was a big production, but maybe an hour later, Sam had Dean bathed and back in bed. It took another hour, practically, to make Dean eat a little soup, and drink water. By the time he was done, he was pretty damned harried and tired as hell. "Guess I wouldn't make a good nurse," he muttered, feeling Dean's forehead again. What the hell? The bath had cooled him down but already, it felt like Dean was burning up again.

All night long, Sam nursed his brother, forcing water down his throat at intervals since he was sweating so bad, and bringing him cold compresses. More than a few times, he was ready to haul Dean to the car and get him to the doctor. But each time he was ready to make that decision, a voice in the back of his head told him they'd been here before, and that Dean had been just as delirious as he was now, but he'd pulled out of it fine with time.

It was still a few hours till dawn when Sam returned to bed, next to Dean. Exhausted, he drifted into yet another semi-asleep state, hoping that some rest would bring a change for the better in Dean.


	11. Chapter 11

  
_He was on fire. Burning. His flesh melting away from muscle and bone under the heat of the flames. He screamed and fought against the restraints holding him. Screaming in pain, but there was no one to hear him. No one to help him. Why wasn't he dead already? A fire as hot as this should have already killed him, burned him to ash within seconds. Why was he still alive? How could he still feel this pain? Maybe he wasn't alive at all? Maybe he was in hell?_   


  
Dean twisted in his sleep. Moaning in agony. His breathing harsh and labored. His heart racing uncontrollably fast. 

_They'd underestimated him and he'd finally managed to escape. He had been running through the woods for hours, his breath like fire in his lungs and his blood pumping like acid through his veins but he didn't care. He had to get out of the forest. Had to find a road or better yet a town, a house, anything. He was starving, he hadn't eaten in days, and his already bruised and battered body screamed in protest but he still ran._ __

_ This was his only chance. He'd endured the fights in the pens. He'd survived their attempts to beat him into submission. He'd ignored the werewolf bitch's attempts to seduce him. He had to get away before she made good on her threat. Before they turned him… made him one of the pack… _

_ If only he knew where he was. If only he knew which way to go. For all he knew he might be heading deeper into the forest instead of out of it, but he had to try. He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't let them take him again. He couldn't. The snap of a branch to his left was his only warning… _

He screamed as he fought against unseen attackers. Trying to get out of the way. Trying to twist out of their grip. The sheets tangling around his body as he threw himself back. Growling viciously. Landing hard on the floor.

_He screamed and cursed and fought as they held him pinned to the dirty floor. Struggling uselessly against their greater strength, they easily held him down while she ran her hands possessively over his body. Forcing his legs open. No. No. She moved in closer, baring her teeth. Caressing his inner thigh almost tenderly._ __

_ You're mine… _

"No! Never! Don't touch me, you bitch!" He screamed hoarsely, crawling back. His back hitting the wall in the corner. His eyes wild and unfocused. Dangerous.    


* * *

Sam came awake with a start, automatically saying Dean’s name even as he forced his eyes open. Dean was thrashing next to him, shouting wildly, but his eyes were still closed most of the time. He tried to hold him down, bodily. “Dream... just a dream, Dean. Listen...”

Dean practically shook him off. “Dean!” Grabbing his brother again, he tried to talk some sense into him, but Dean wasn’t having it... he was somewhere else in his mind.

One touch of his forehead showed Sam how hot Dean was burning again. “I’m gonna run a bath again,” he said, scrambling off the bed though Dean wasn’t listening. Getting him to the tub was gonna be much harder now.

As the water filled, Sam tried to get Dean to get up again. Dean pushed him away so hard, Sam almost shoved him. It was just instinct, but he got a hold of himself. Maybe he should get Dean to the doctor... maybe.

Jumping off the bed, he shut the water down and stared at Dean. His brother was so hot and flushed, the doubts started piling again. Did he have a right to keep him here and away from help? What if something happened, would dad tell him he should have taken Dean in? Blowing out a deep breath, Sam got his phone and walked to the window.

As he dialed his dad, he looked outside. Nope, no full moon yet. But it was getting closer... definitely getting closer. “Hey. Sorry for... no, well, yeah there’s a problem.” Sam bit his lip, already anticipating his dad probably thought he should be able to handle whatever it was that was happening. He quickly gave him the run down on the fever situation. His dad told him about a homeopathic way of bringing the fever down and said if the situation didn’t change by morning, to take Dean in.

“Okay... I’m just...” Sam glanced over at Dean. “As soon as he’s resting easier, I’ll go.” There had to be an all night drugstore, there just had to be. “See you.”

* * *

Dean pressed his back protectively against the wall so no one could sneak up on him. He wasn’t going to let them take him again. He wasn’t! He’d kill any of them who tried. He’d kill them with his bare hands if he had to. He’d rip out their throats with his teeth. They’d tried to come for him at the bar, tried to take him and Sam...

Sam...

Where was Sam?

He was close. He could smell him... hear him... but he couldn’t see him. That might have had something to do with the bed in his way, blocking his line of vision. Sammy. Sam. He wanted to see Sam. Dean pushed himself up, using the wall behind him for support, until he was finally standing on unsteady legs. Blinking a few times to clear his swimming vision before his brother finally came into focus. Mostly. The younger man over by the window, talking on the phone...

Who was he talking to? Sam was always talking to people behind his back. When he thought he wasn’t listening. Going outside where he thought he couldn’t hear, and Dean didn’t like it. Not one bit. Talking to people like this... Jess... person who Dean didn’t know. Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Dean growled under his breath, a low dangerous sound, as he stepped away from the wall. Immediately having to reach out to brace himself before he fell over.

Sam had been so upset. Upset enough to almost wreck his car after the first time they’d fucked. Made love... fucked... His brother so upset when he’d asked Dean if he’d ever cheated on anyone. Sam was cheating on him? Wanting to be with that... other... person rather than Dean. I love you. That’s what he’d said. Sam had told him he loved him. But he loved someone else too... no... Sam was only supposed to love him!

Now Sam was talking on the phone again. Talking to them! The person he loved other than Dean. He was going to see them. He was going to leave him. Leave him just like before. Leave him and never come back...

NO!

Dean didn’t know how he made it across the room. Tearing the phone out of his brother’s hands viciously and throwing it. Hearing the satisfying crunch of breaking plastic as it hit the wall hard. The even more satisfying crunch of cracking glass when he grabbed the younger man and shoved him hard up against the window. One hand around Sam’s throat, squeezing. The other around his arm, fingers and nails digging brutally into his skin.

“You can’t leave! You can’t!” Dean screamed, enraged, into his brother’s face.

* * *

“Dean!” Sam shouted at his brother the instant the phone was ripped from his hand and thrown clear across the room. “What the—“

Before he got a single sentence out, he found his head smashing back against the glass as hard as the phone had hit the wall. Pain shot through his head and his ears rang, and the shouting in his face wasn’t helping. “Are you fucking nuts? Get off me,” he yelled back, though all that came out of his mouth was a strangled sound.

Awareness of a new source of pain, and the threat of his air path getting blocked, put Sam into a state of panic. “Let go Dean… I can’t bre… God…” Putting all of his strength into it, he punched Dean hard under the chin with the heel of his hand, freeing himself and taking a few unsteady steps away. He gulped lungfuls of air, and started to turn, only now realizing that what had been at his throat was claws… or at least something sharper than nails. His heart thudded hard against his ribs. _Please. Please don’t let him have turned. Please… it’s too soon._  


* * *

Dean tasted blood in his mouth when he was struck, the blow strong enough to make him instinctively let go of his prey as he stumbled back unsteadily and almost fell. Rage more than strength kept him standing, and his eyes were practically murderous when he reached out and grabbed the other man again by the hair and bodily threw him down onto the bed.

There was nothing even remotely rational in his eyes anymore as he pinned his brother down to the bed with his own weight, holding the younger man’s wrists above his head in an iron grip, and his legs trapping Sam’s so the other man couldn’t kick him. He practically snarled at his brother, just daring the younger man to try to hit him again… to try to get away again…

He wasn’t going to let Sam leave him again. Wasn’t going to let his brother go to someone else and forget about him again. He wasn’t… Sam was his, belonged to him… he needed Sam. He was going to make him remember. Make Sam remember who he belonged to.

Dean’s golden yellow eyes watched in fascination as his bright red blood dripped down onto Sam’s pale cheek, watched as a thin line of blood flowed down the younger man’s forehead from his hairline. The elder man leaned in and licked at it almost tenderly. Swiping his tongue across Sam’s skin and then groaning softly at the taste of their blood mingling together. So similar and so different at the same time.

* * *

It was two steps. Two seconds. They slipped away so fast between the time he turned and saw the pure rage on Dean’s face, and the time he was thrown onto the bed. Sam fought, maybe for his life, but every attempt to make Dean release him brought with it more pain, and was futile. He wasn’t facing human strength anymore.

Breathing hard, the air puffing his cheeks out each time he blew out, Sam had no choice but to stare into his brother’s face and see the unnaturally yellow glow in his eyes. _Holy... Dean..._ As his chest rose and fell, and as he registered the pain Dean was still inflicting on his wrists, he shook his head ‘no.’ At least he was in human form... _Please don’t shift._

Time stood still. His mind slowly unthawed and he started to recall what he’d read about Alpha wolves demanding complete obedience and submission. He felt the droplets of blood land on him, and just managed to repress a sound of disgust when Dean licked it off him.

_Animal._ No, Dean had to still be there inside... he had to. Quickly looking down, practically shutting is eyes and only able to see Dean as a shadow through his eyelashes, he nodded and whispered. “Okay.... whatever you want, okay Dean. I’ll do whatever you say.” He had no idea what Dean wanted, why he was this angry and upset. It couldn’t just be because he’d promised to go to the pharmacy. No, is brother had to be in the throes of some fever induced nightmare or delusion.

He licked is lips. “I’m not moving, see. Whatever you want,” he whispered, trying to soothe. What if the taste of blood-- His throat convulsed. “Dean, don’t hurt me. Please.”

* * *

Blood and sweat. Heat and fear. Dean could smell it all, mingled with Sam’s own unique scent, when he leaned in close to his brother’s neck, inhaling deeply. He could feel the younger man’s heart racing, pounding hard and fast against his chest. His panting, desperate, breaths so loud in his ears it was almost deafening.

Sam was afraid. Helpless in his grip. Like a captured frightened animal waiting for the predator to move in for the final kill.

Dean growled and licked his lips. Still able to taste the blood in his mouth. Thick and rich. But he had no desire to taste any more of it. No desire to rip into the fragile flesh so close to his lips, because he wasn’t prey. Not his prey, just his.

He felt the younger man’s body relax, no longer fighting, no longer trying to get away from him and in turn Dean slowly relaxed his bruising grip on the other man. Staring down at Sam when his brother averted his eyes and the rumbling, threatening, growl in his chest stopped. A primitive instinct inside him satisfied by the younger man’s submission, and that’s when he finally heard his brother’s soft whispered words.

“Don’t hurt me...”

Dean blinked. Surprise and confusion flickering across his face before he shook his head. No... no he didn’t want to hurt Sam. He never wanted to hurt him. He just... didn’t want him to leave. Couldn’t let him...

He groaned softly at the wave of dizziness that washed over him, whatever strength he’d found in the last few minutes seeming to bleed out of him like through an open wound. Pain and heat once more taking its place and Dean moaned in pain as he buried his face against the younger man’s throat. Nuzzling and kissing the soft vulnerable flesh tenderly as he slowly released Sam’s wrists. His body resting heavily on top of his brother’s.

* * *

Eyes closed, heart still slamming against his chest, Sam kept as still as he could as Dean kissed his throat. Even when he released him. Even when he lay on him so heavily and motionless that it was clear he’d gone to sleep or was out of it, Sam waited. What he’d seen in Dean’s eyes… he didn’t want to face that again.

The seconds ticked by like hours. First he lightly shook Dean. When that had no effect, he slowly rolled him half way off his body and sat up. He hurt, in some places more than others, but it was worse than he’d thought. One glance at the bed, and even in the dark, he could see the dark marks on the sheets… blood.

Carefully, without any sudden motions, he tried to help Dean up, then took all of his weight and managed to get him the few feet back to his own bed. He barely arranged him on the bed before heading for the bathroom.

Switching the lights on, he touched the back of his head and brought his hand in front of him. His fingertips were wet with blood. He had a mother of a headache, but the cut didn’t hurt. Turning, he saw that most of the blood was seeping through his tee shirt. Pulling it off and looking behind him in the mirror, he saw claw marks… his flesh and skin jagged and ripped. “Christ…”

Ten minute later, he was showered and had done a half-assed job of bandaging his back. He pulled on a new tee, and jeans, then walked to the bed. Turning on the lamp, he stripped his dad’s now bloodied bed. God he was tired. So fucking tired, but also wired. Was he really going to have to bring in the chains and cuffs? His mind, his entire body rebelled at the idea of tying Dean up like an animal again. Yet a soft voice reminded him that he’d thought that very word, _animal_ , when Dean had licked blood off him and looked at him with rage-filled yellow eyes.

Swallowing, he finished collecting the sheets and took them outside, propping the door of their room open. Both the motel laundry machines and janitorial closet were close by. He tossed the sheets into a machine and got it started, having no intention of doing anything else with it… just wanting to hide the blood. Using his knife, he easily broke into the supply closet and took out new sheets.

Once he got back to the room, he saw Dean hadn’t moved. He quickly made up the bed, not caring it was a sloppy job, just wanting the sheets on. He wasn’t gonna sleep, not now. Carefully lowering himself into the chair at the foot of Dean’s bed, he stuffed a pillow behind him, needing something soft that wouldn’t put pressure on his wounds. Just when he got comfortable, he noticed he’d left the light on.

A heavy sigh left him as he got up to turn the lamp off so it wouldn’t make Dean wake earlier or anything. He’d snapped it off when his brain caught up with what he thought he’d seen. Turning the light back on, he leaned over Dean, frowning. His brother’s chest was red and inflamed. Moving the amulet, he noticed the mark went across his chest at just the same level as the amulet.

It couldn’t be… Lifting Dean’s hand, he looked at his fingers… and sonova… the finger he had the silver ring on was red and inflamed. Hoping to hell Dean wouldn’t wake, he pulled the ring off, then used his knife to cut the leather cord around Dean’s neck. Tossing both pieces of jewelry onto the nightstands, he went back to the chair.

He eased himself down. It couldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t.

* * *

It was well into the afternoon when Dean woke up with a splitting headache, feeling like he had the worst mother fucking hangover of his life. His throat felt thick and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, he was so thirsty. His muscles ached like he’d pulled every single one of them and, as though he didn’t feel bad enough, he was covered with a cold sheen of sweat that made him shiver and feel all around disgusting.

At least the fever he had yesterday seemed to be gone… was it only yesterday? He had no idea even what day it was. Considering every day only brought him closer to the full moon, that bothered Dean a lot and finally convinced him it was worthwhile to move. Rolling over onto his back with a groan of discomfort, glad at least the heavy privacy drapes were drawn shut or else his eyes might have just exploded right in their sockets.

“Sammy?” Dean managed to croak out, lifting his head. Sensing the younger man was close by but at the same time too far away for his liking. Not that he really blamed his brother, the younger man probably just as grossed out as Dean felt with himself. Fuck, he needed a shower, bad.

He saw the younger man slumped in the chair at the foot of his bed, Sam’s too tall framed squished rather uncomfortably looking in it, and his eyes closed. Seemingly asleep, though the younger man had dark circles under his eyes from obvious exhaustion. Had Sam stayed up all night with him taking care of him? Guilt flashed through him at that thought and he considered just letting his brother continue sleeping, he obviously needed it, but he couldn’t let him keep sleeping like that in that damn uncomfortable chair. Sam was going to be stiff as it was, his brother should at least take one of the beds.

“Sam.” Dean said a little louder as he pushed himself up into a more or less sitting position.

* * *

It was better once morning light broke. Before that, during the night, every sound from the bed had Sam tensing. Every time he went to check on Dean and to put a compress on him, he moved cautiously, trying not to disturb, not to wake... afraid of a repeat performance.

By dawn, Dean felt cooler to his touch so some of Sam’s worries lifted from his shoulders. He texted the news to his father, afraid to speak out loud again. Then he sat heavily back in the chair and allowed himself to slip in and out of oblivion.

The sound of his name cracked like a whip and had him gripping the arms of the chair as he bolted straight and opened his eyes. “What? What?” He searched Dean’s face, relaxing slightly as he looked into familiar eyes that held no hint of yellow. He ran his tongue over his dry lips. “Hey.”

Sitting back, he gave a tired smile. “You’re back with the living.” Yeah, seeing Dean sitting up, he knew they’d beat it... beat that fever. “Probably should drink the rest of that water,” he jerked his chin toward the bottle on the nightstand. “And maybe this time you won’t threaten to shove it up my ass.”

He’d get up, yeah he would. As soon as he felt less stiff and could move without signs of his injuries. He knew Dean would bring it up, that he’d freak out about it. Sam would just have to convince him it wasn’t as bad as he remembered.

* * *

Dean was taken back when Sam woke with a start, practically jumping out of his skin, and his concern for the younger man only grew. If Sam had looked like shit when he’d been asleep, he looked even worse now that he was awake. His eyes red and his exhaustion even more apparent.

“Hey. You look like hell.” He pointed out unnecessarily with a frown of disapproval. As much as the elder man appreciated Sam taking care of him while he’d been sick, he was more than a little upset that his brother obviously hadn’t taken care of himself at the same time. Like he could really talk? How often had he run himself nearly ragged while taking care of his little brother when Sam had been ill? Nearly making himself sick in the process.

Though the tired smile Sam gave him worked well to disarm him, like always. Damn boy could always wrap him around his pinky too damn easily, and he sighed softly letting go of his annoyance. Returning his brother’s slight smile with one of his own though there was still more than a little bit of worry in his eyes. He nodded and reached towards the nightstand for the water Sam had indicated, chuckling softly in spite of himself at his brother’s comment.

It reminded him of the time Sam had made that exact same threat, though he’d been twelve at the time suffering from the flu and their Dad’s eyes had nearly bugged out of his head. His hand paused and his amusement vanished when his eyes fell on his ring and amulet laying on the nightstand. There was absolutely no reason for either to be there, but Dean didn’t have to wonder long about the reason. His attention drawn to his own hand that hovered over the nightstand and the angry red mark that went all the way around his finger where his ring usually was. It looked like a fucking burn. A quick glance down at his chest found a similar mark.

Silver was like poison to werewolves, especially if it pierced their skin. Was that why he’d gotten sick? That little bit of silver… and why he was better now because he wasn’t wearing the jewelry anymore? Because he was becoming more and more werewolf than man as they neared the full moon?

One glance at his brother and he could tell their thoughts were in the same place.

Fuck.

Forgetting about the water Dean pushed himself up the rest of the way to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hand tiredly over his face. Pleased that he’d been able to do so, though his head still hurt like a motherfucker.

“Why don’t you lay down and get some real sleep? I’m going to take a shower.” Dean suggested to his brother. He wasn’t a hundred percent yet, but it was obvious he didn’t need a caretaker anymore and Sam obviously needed the rest.

* * *

He could see the wheels turning in Dean’s head as his brother worked out the connection between his fever and the silver jewelry on the nightstand. When their eyes met, Dean’s seeking confirmation, Sam literally felt sick to his stomach. It hurt to see that flash of self-revulsion in Dean’s eyes. Hurt worse than any pain his brother could physically inflict.

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Get some sleep,” he agreed. “And you… drink that water. Don’t think I didn’t see,” he gave another weary smile. They exchanged a few more words, and then Dean finally left for the bathroom. The lack of any real swagger in his step, and the way he caught the edge of the table as he opened the door told Sam his brother was still weak. Maybe if he got some food in his system, that would help.

Once the door closed, Sam put his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed up slowly. The skin on his back felt like it was pulling where his injuries were. Trying to loosen his neck and back, he did a few stretching exercises but gave up when he thought he might open up a wound.

Walking to his dad’s freshly made bed, he popped a couple of Tylenol and flushed it down with Dean’s water, before slowly lowering onto the mattress and gingerly laying on his side. His gaze focused on Dean’s amulet an ring. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen them off his brother. Just another fucking reminder of all the changes.

_Hurry up dad. Find it, find the cure._ God, if they ever needed a miracle, it was now. For all his sureness about being able to handle Dean, no matter what, last night had introduced a shred of doubt in his mind. It didn’t change anything. They’d have to deal with it, he’d have to find a way… and maybe he had found a way. All he had to do was agree with everything Dean said. Great. A ‘yes man’ he wasn’t.

He thought his mind would never quiet down, but soon, his eyes closed and he fell into a deep, sleep.

* * *

Dean didn’t take a very long shower. Even as amazing as the hot water felt he still felt exhausted and a bit unsteady on his feet, another indication of just how bad off he must have been. But the hot water did at least ease some of the ache in his muscles and even helped clear his head a bit, making it easier to think, though it still throbbed like he had a fucking hangover. Maybe he’d take a few painkillers before he went back to bed to sleep off the rest of the effects of the fever.

Couldn’t hurt… as long as he didn’t swallow any silver.

Dean made a face at that thought and sighed heavily. He just couldn’t fucking believe it. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. Yes, of course he knew that silver was a sure way to kill a werewolf but… fuck…

He didn’t know if it would have been “easier” if it had started affecting him right away, right after he’d been bitten, rather than now. Later. A clear indication of how he was changing, little by little, every single day. Becoming more… like them… less human. He couldn’t help but think, why now? Had it just been slowly building up in his system all this time? Killing him slowly… or had it been triggered when he’d shifted briefly that morning. The same day he’d begun to feel ill, the day his fingernails had turned to claws and drawn his own blood…

Dean leaned his forehead against the warm tile wall. Trying not to think about it and at the same time completely unable to think about anything else. What did Sam think about all of this? His brother had obviously figured out the connection between the silver he’d been wearing and his sickness. He wondered if Sam hadn’t figured it out if he would have been dead by now.

Sam had saved his life… again… but Dean couldn’t help thinking how Sam hadn’t been near him when he’d woken. His brother, his lover, had been sitting in a chair far away from him rather than laying next to him. Was Sam disgusted with him now? Now that he could see for himself, so clearly, what a freak he was becoming…

Maybe he was thinking too much. Reading too much into it. He was tired, and he was hurting in more ways than one. He just needed to sleep. No, what he really needed was Sam and sleep.

He wished his brother could have joined him in the shower, that would have made it much more enjoyable even if they did nothing but hold each other, but his brother obviously needed to rest more. Dean was worried about Sam and he just couldn’t shake the feeling. So he finally turned off the water and dried himself off quickly with one of the motel towels.

Leaving it on the floor of the bathroom, not even bothering to cover himself, as he made his way back into the main room to find Sam asleep on the other bed. Not much of a surprise there since Dean had probably sweat all over the other one in his fevered state, no wonder Sam hadn’t wanted to sleep next to him.

Without hesitation Dean crawled into the bed with his brother, spooning up against the younger man’s back and wrapping his arm securely around Sam’s waist.

* * *

As deep in sleep as he had been, the sharp pain woke Sam with a sudden jerk that only made it worse. “Dean?!” Arching slightly away, Sam froze, taking a few calming breaths. Dean was just holding him, that was all. He wasn’t trapping him, and he didn’t realize his back hurt. Slowly, Sam managed to fight the panicked feeling that had swamped him.

Putting his hand over Dean’s wrist, he pulled, forcing his brother to loosen his tight grip and allow him to scoot away slightly. “You feeling any better?” He let out a breath. “Did you want to eat, or something? I can get something for you.” Slowly, he pushed himself up, only able to turn once he was sitting.

Then he saw Dean was naked and shook his head. “Dude, you could have put on some shorts or something.” What was it, thirty six hours or so, when they’d been going at it like there was no tomorrow? Heat stained Sam’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. Looking up, he met Dean’s eyes and saw something in their depths. “What?”

* * *

The way Sam jerked so suddenly in his arms just as Dean was setting down, yelling his name like he was fucking panicked, Dean’s first instinct was to reach for a weapon to protect his brother from whatever the hell evil thing had scared the younger man. Too bad that evil thing was him, and his brother’s voice wasn’t just startled, it was _pained_.

The elder man was frozen in absolute confusion as he stared at his brother, feeling the younger man’s heart pounding underneath his hand like it was ready to explode. What the hell was going on? He felt Sam pulling at his wrist, and only then did he realize just how tightly he’d been holding his brother, and he forced himself to let go even though that was the last thing he wanted to do. Watching as Sam sat up, very carefully, moving stiffly, like he was a fucking old man.

He knew Sam was talking, asking him something, his tone casual now but even that didn’t hide the underlying strain he could still hear in the younger man’s voice. The same he’d heard before but chalked up to mere exhaustion before. Dean didn’t really hear anything that Sam was saying however because he became aware of something else too… the smell of blood.

Sam’s blood. Sam was hurt. When? How?

Dean didn’t answer the younger man’s question, he merely leaned closer, sniffing. He smelled dried blood in his brother’s hair, but that’s not where it was the strongest. Not where it was fresh. It didn’t take long for him to figure out the source. Not giving Sam a chance to protest, Dean lifted up the back of the younger man’s shirt, his eyes widening when he saw the bandages on the younger man’s back. Obviously put on by Sam himself considering the crappy job. They were stained with blood, and not a little bit.

“What the fuck happened?” Dean demanded as he looked at his brother, his stomach already twisting, having a pretty good guess, even before Sam said a word.

* * *

The strange silence between them bothered Sam. He was about to ask again if he should get food when Dean suddenly moved closer. For a second, Sam thought Dean was gonna pull him close for a kiss, and was prepared to make sure his brother’s hands stayed off his back if they kissed.

His lips parted slightly but before he was able to meet Dean half way, his brother pulled back and tugged his shirt suddenly. “God damn it, don’t... Dean,” he tried to push Dean’s hand away but it was too late. Far too late. His back was exposed and Dean ...

Meeting Dean’s gaze, Sam’s heart lurched. He didn’t need this, he didn’t need Dean on the verge of a freak out, because he knew only too well where that lead. It was clear that Dean remembered none of it. Somehow Sam had thought he’d remember snatches or something, but right now shock was etched too deeply in Dean’s face for that to be true.

“Mountain lion.” Sam gave a shrug, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. The urge to lie, to really lie, not to try to pass of a joke, was real strong. But one look at the injury and Dean would know the truth. He sighed and put his hand out, resting it on Dean’s shoulder.

“It’s not that bad, Dean. Just... you had a fever, and a delusion.” He was just guessing there, but what else could it be? He was sure Dean hadn’t changed. “I made a mistake,” he nodded, afraid, so fucking afraid Dean was going to take this hard. “It was me... I tried to fight you, to tell you what to do. Then I figured you out.” He squeezed Dean’s shoulder, “All I had to say was _you’re hurting me_. That was it, it calmed your ass down. You listening? It’s all I had to say, and now I know.”

* * *

Dean’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached, pushing himself away from Sam roughly. Away from that _understanding_ hand on his shoulder. He stood, backing away from the bed. His hands clenched into fists at his side as though he were afraid he might actually sprout claws, this very second. _Fucking claws_. Tear open his brother’s flesh… again.

Fuck, he had done this. _He_ had done this.

“Now you know what, Sam?” Dean snapped, surprised by just how calm his voice sounded right now. Especially since he felt anything but calm. “Now you know I’m capable of hurting you when I’m out of fucking control? _What_?”

He’d hurt Sam. He’d lost control… he’d turned… Sam had tried to _fight_ him, and he had hurt Sam. That’s it… no more…

Shaking his head, Dean turned and went over to his duffel. Grabbing some clothes out of it and started getting dressed. Throwing on a pair of shorts and jeans, just enough to keep from flashing the neighbors. Then he went and grabbed the keys to the impala.

* * *

Every word from Dean’s mouth made Sam wince. They cut him as surely as they cut Dean. Forget about this werewolf thing, he knew that growing up Dean had been all about protecting him. From monsters, from truth, from pain, from danger and even from their father. Yeah they sometimes got into fights. Yeah they’d drawn each others’ blood before, but this was different. Dean hadn’t been in control and he could have easily gone too far. So here they were, with Dean thinking he could have killed and might still, the person he was used to sheltering. This went directly against everything that made Dean tick, and Sam knew exactly how his brother was feeling.

Eyes wide, he watched as Dean stalked around pulling clothes on. But when he grabbed his keys, Sam panicked.

He scrambled off the bed, biting down on the groan of pain and moving faster than he thought he could. He reached the door, tuned his back to it and bodily blocked Dean’s way. His eyes flashed with a mix of tears and anger. “I’m not afraid of that... of it happening again, I know how to handle THAT. It’s this... you like this, you’re scaring the crap out of me Dean. THIS is hurting me more than that ever could.”

He licked his lips and tensed, ready to take Dean down if his brother tried to leave. “You promised me. Just like I promised you, you promised me.” He wasn't gonna put his fears into words, it wasn't necessary... and it would make them even more real.

* * *

Dean’s eyes widened a little when Sam blocked the motel room door with his own body. Trying to keep him from leaving the room even though they both knew right now Dean was much stronger. He could literally just throw his brother out of the way with hardly any effort, when before they’d been evenly matched. Hell, Sam might have even had a slight advantage over him before, being a few inches taller than him for years now. Not anymore. Now that Dean was a monster. Now that he had werewolf venom pumping through his veins adding supernatural strength to every muscle in his body.

But if he tried to force Sam to move, the younger man might fight him and he might accidentally hurt his brother. He would never consciously risk doing that. Sam was counting on that, his brother knew him too well. Knew what lengths Dean would go to protect him. Which was why this time, it wasn’t going to stop him. If Sam wouldn’t move on his own…

Dean stalked up to the younger man, standing in front of him so close they were nearly chest to chest. His eyes narrowed in warning.

“I promised you I wouldn’t try to blow a hole in my head again. I didn’t promise you I was going to let myself hurt you. Get out of the way.” When Sam, predictably, didn’t Dean grabbed him, turned, and shoved him towards the bed. So if Sam fell at least he’d fall on a soft surface.

Dean didn’t waste time then opening the door and going to the car, unlocking the trunk and lifting up the false bottom where all the supplies were. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. He grabbed the handcuffs, and a set of shackles they’d never had to use until now.

* * *

As they stood in front of each other, Sam refused to be intimidated. Even though the wildness in Dean, his strength last night was fresh in his mind, he couldn’t afford to let it. Too much hung on this. He wasn’t gonna lose his brother. He hadn’t fought this hard for nothing. “Dean, please.”

As his pleas fell on deaf ears and his brother started splitting hairs on what he’d promised, Sam tensed. His nostrils flared as he cocked his head to the side when Dean told him to get out of the way. He wouldn’t—

Then Dean did. Sam might have expected a struggle, a fight... but instead he was pushed aside like a mere nuisance. As he staggered backwards, almost falling, Dean shot out that door.

The sudden movement had Sam wrenching his back. He felt wetness seeping through his bandaging, dammit. Grabbing an over shirt, he shrugged it on as fast as he could and chased after Dean, racing to the lot just across the walkway.

His heart pounded with fear at the thought Dean was already gone. Yeah, he’d stashed all the silver bullets, but Dean could easily make more. “Dean!” Running faster, he arrived at the Impala just as Dean was slamming the trunk, “Dean!” he shouted again, starting to reach out and grab his brother, “I can’t do this again, I just... what’s that...”

Taking a step back, he swallowed, still prepared to try to tackle Dean or stand in front of his car... to do whatever it took, if necessary. His gaze snapped to Dean’s as he let out a couple of heavy breaths. “You wanna put me out of my misery already? What’s going on?” he spread his hands.

* * *

As Dean slammed the trunk closed and turned he practically ran into Sam. His lips flattening into a thin line as his brother grabbed him. As though that could actually restrain him, hadn’t they already established fighting against him was absolutely fucking useless? All Sam was risking was getting himself hurt again, and it only reaffirmed that this was what he had to do.

But then Sam was releasing him on his own. Stepping back. Looking at the chains Dean held in his hand and the elder man followed his gaze briefly before looking back to Sam’s eyes when his brother demanded to know what was going on.

It had crossed his mind, for more than a few seconds, to simply get in the car and drive away. Dump it somewhere not far away so his brother would find it fairly easily and steal another. Driving as far as the gas tank would take him before switching cars and doing the same, again, and again, and again. Until there was absolutely no way his brother would be able to trace him.

Hell, it had taken six fucking _months_ for his father to track down the werewolves that had taken him. There was no reason why Dean couldn’t disappear, maybe forever. To chain himself up to a few trees in the middle of fucking nowhere and let himself rot. Far away from his father, his brother, any other innocent people. Hell, maybe even one day a hunter would come along at random and put him out of his misery for good.

But maybe a very small part of him still hoped that his father would find the answer. Find the cure… if there was one. A part of him, even after everything, was still unwilling to leave Sam. But he wasn’t going to put his brother in danger anymore. It was obvious he couldn’t be trusted. Not for a second. He was worse than a wild animal, because at least a wild animal was wild all the time. A wild animal never hesitated in attacking. That was better than never knowing when he would attack.

“What does it look like, Sam?” Dean asked, half annoyed half resigned as he pushed past the younger man again, heading back into their motel room with the chains. Looking around the room he tried to figure out where to do this. There weren’t exactly a lot of things in the room that could secure a werewolf.

Getting an idea he brought the chains into the bathroom and started to wind the heavy chains around the base of the toilet. Feeling a little stupid doing so but he couldn’t think of anything else. Besides, at least this way he won’t have to be unchained for any reason and he could always sleep in the tub he supposed.

* * *

Sam cursed under his breath and followed Dean back, then stood filling the doorway to the bathroom as he watched Dean moving around. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to give me an answer once in a while. Dean.”

He made a face and took a step toward his agitated brother, clamped his hand on his shoulder. “Dean, stop, look at me. What are you doing? First you scare the hell out of me, and now...” he gestured toward the chains on the ground. “You’re not thinking straight. Can we talk about this.” He tried to bend farther and made a sound of pain, immediately straightening.

“Dammit, listen. When it’s time, Dean, _when_ it’s time, its not gonna be in some bathroom like some animal.” He remembered how freaked Dean had been that one time he’d left him cuffed to the bed, this had to be killing his brother. “Godsakes ... “ He got down on his knees again, and put his hand on the side of Dean’s face, making him look at him. “I’ll tell you when it’s time, I’ll know. I’ll find the beams in the walls in the room, and secure the chains to it. When we need them, they’ll be there, alright?”

He brushed his mouth over Dean’s, kissing him lightly. “Trust me. Please... don’t be like dad. Don’t think I’m just some chump... I’m not. I’m really not, and I’m not soft like you think. I will put those chains on you myself when you need them, but not now... and not like this.”

* * *

Dean ignored his brother’s hovering in the bathroom doorway while he worked. He ignored the younger man’s hand on his shoulder while he secured the chains tightly in a way that would give him enough room to move around a bit but not to get close to the door and definitely not to leave the room. He ignored his brother’s comment that he wasn’t thinking straight when he checked the shackles that would fit around his ankles, attached to the chains, determining that they would indeed hold him. He ground his teeth to keep from snapping back at Sam when his brother said he wasn’t thinking straight.

This was maybe the first thing he’d done that was _smart_ since this whole damned thing started.

His eyes flickered briefly to Sam’s face when he heard the small groan of pain that had involuntarily escaped from his brother. Pain crossing Dean’s own face to match it before he turned back to his task. What the hell was there to talk about? Not a damned thing. He wasn’t going to let… that… happen again. No matter what, and the only way that was ensured was if he was restrained. If he couldn’t reach Sam then he couldn’t hurt Sam. Plain and simple.

A small growl escaped his lips when his brother forced him to look at him. The small sound making him wince all over again, his stomach twisting so violently he thought he might just vomit. The only thing that stopped him from immediately pulling away from the younger man. Even when Sam leaned in too close. Close enough to kiss him. That’s when Dean pulled away, like he had been burned, and looked away from the younger man.

“God damn it, Sam. I _am_ a god damned animal! What is it going to take? When is it going to be _time_? When I hurt you enough that you need stitches? When I break a few bones? When I put you in the hospital? When I try to rip out your throat? When?”

Dean closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.

“I’m not ‘being like dad’. I know you’re not soft, and you know I’m not a damned idiot. I can make my own choices. I’m not just doing this for you, I’m doing it for me. Selfishly. I need to know you’ll be safe. So it’s either this or I walk out that door and don’t come back.” Dean whispered softly then picked up one of the shackles and locked it securely around his ankle.

* * *

Sam winced each time Dean raised his voice, each time he voiced his fears. He ran his hand over his brow as his brother ranted and demanded to know when the time would come to chain him.

The threat to walk out that door didn’t sit at all well with Sam. He practically bristled at the fact his brother knew his weak point and was using it so callously against him. He gave Dean a look that said as much, then backed up to the opposite wall.

“Right, you have choices. You could be tied at the bed or here. Good choice, Dean. I’d pick the cold floor too,” he nodded, “perfect real estate here and not only can you use the head whenever you need, you get to watch me... and dad when he gets back.” He threw that in for good measure.

Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground and sat. “Yeah, it’s much nicer staring at me or the wall, or listening to that faucet drip... much better than the t.v. you could be watching inside. At least there’s a nice echo in here.”

Leaning his head against the wall, he silently watched Dean, knowing he was getting him pissed off but unable to help himself. He got where Dean was coming form, but that didn’t mean this wasn’t idiotic.

“Eating. That should be real pleasant in here. You really know how to pick winners when it comes to atmosphere, no wonder the girls all step over each other for a date with you.” This time, a laugh escaped him, though he tried to prevent it. Crossing his arms over the tops of his knees, he leaned his chin on them and looked expectantly at his brother.

* * *

Dean’s jaw was beginning to ache quite a bit by now, he was clenching it so tight. Holding his tongue wasn’t really something he was all that good at. Not talking about something, avoiding an issue, that was easy. Sitting there letting his brother verbally lash him, letting his brother basically call him an idiot and doing nothing to defend himself, saying nothing in return? That was something else. But he tried to tell himself he deserved it. He had fucking slashed open his brother’s back with his _claws_ for god sake! That reminder was enough to keep him from going off on his brother, saying something he might regret later to Sam, who stood there mocking him so casually.

He ignored the younger man’s comments about him watching him use the toilet, because Sam was just being spiteful. Especially when he mentioned dad too. Bastard. Sam knew damn well he wasn’t that kind of fucking pervert. If it was an issue he could sit in the tub with the curtain closed while his brother used the toilet, what the hell difference was it from standing next to a total stranger and using a urinal in a public restroom? If Sam couldn’t handle it, fine, he could get another room. That might not be a bad idea anyway. Then Sam wouldn’t have to come near him ever, not even for “necessities”.

“I’ve had worse.” Dean stated flatly as he finished locking the shackles around his ankles and picked up the handcuffs. Glaring at his brother angrily as he purposefully snapped them around his own wrists. Sam wanted to laugh at him, fine. Sam wanted to punish him, fine. He could take it. He had endured far worse conditions over the last six months. Maybe Sam had forgotten that. The one thing he couldn’t take, though, was “waking up” again, from a fever, bad dream, whatever, and finding out he’d hurt his brother again.

Scooting back to lean against the wall Dean pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his arms on them, turning his face away from his brother. Because right now he’d honestly rather stare at the wall.

* * *

They sat like that for quite a while, their positions mirroring each others’, except that Sam was looking at Dean, and his brother was refusing to look back at him. Sam sighed and closed his eyes for a while. Tried to rest, but how the hell could anyone rest like this. The silence was pissing him off too. He hated getting the silent treatment, hated it with a passion.

“I was kidding.” He used his foot to knock his brother’s leg and get his attention. That got him nowhere. “You’re not a danger to me Dean,” he said quietly, pulling up to his feet when Dean still wouldn’t talk to him. Taking a breath, he stepped over his brother, and walked into the room.

Where had Dean put the damned keys? Seeing they’d been tossed next to the broken phone, Sam took them and walked out the door.

* * *

The silence was choking. Sam’s soft words only making it seem all the more intense. Dean didn’t look at his brother, didn’t make a sound, didn’t move. He had to resist his first instinct to roll his eyes and sigh.

Kidding. Sure.

It seemed more often than not when Sam was “kidding” was when he really told the truth. Sarcasm the younger man’s way of telling him what he really thought, what he really felt... He used to be able to read his brother like an open book. He used to know Sam better than he knew himself. He had to keep reminding himself that before the last couple of weeks they hadn’t seen each other in years. Sam was different now.

So was he, and he was only going to get more different every single day. More dangerous. Sure, he wasn’t a danger. That’s why his brother’s back was shredded open like tissue paper. It had started with bruises. Did Sam really think he’d forgotten about the diner? Sam’s wrist? The tree outside the bar? How much he had hurt Sam the first time they’d…

Now, he was starting to shift. Starting to turn. At least twice he had sprouted fucking claws, and it wasn’t even the full moon yet. He was like them, like that mother fucker Daniel, like her, the ones that could change at will. Sam wasn’t safe from him. His brother would never be safe from him again.

Dean didn’t watch his brother go, though when the younger man finally left the bathroom he moved for the first time in what seemed like hours. Closing his eyes and pulling his knees up tighter, resting his forehead down on them. He heard the outer door of the motel room open and close, and a choked sound escaped his throat before he could stop it.

* * *

Sam tried to swallow down the feelings churning inside him, but it was impossible. It always affected him when Dean shut down like he had. And even more now that they had this… this crazy relationship going between them. Maybe it made him expect Dean to share more, to act different… something. But the silent treatments really hurt.

He slammed the door of the Impala shut harder than necessary. Maybe he hoped Dean heard and was pissed or worried about his precious car. _That_ he'd probably want to talk about and discuss to no end. Starting the car, he backed out and pulled out of the lot faster than safe.

His first stop was a hardware store. By the time he was checking out with everything he needed, and had counted out his money, he realized they'd need to do something about their cash situation. He hadn't stolen in years. The thought of going back to that was unsettling. He'd always much preferred hustling to stealing but the latter was quicker.

Tossing his purchases into the car, he saw a drug store across the street. Maybe he should go get some… not that he was even sure there would be any more sex, the way Dean was acting as if it was all over. Sighing, he did cross the street. Dammit, he'd kind of hoped Dean would take care of getting the lube.

By the time he walked out, he was carrying other things he didn't really need. It had just been a way of 'burying' the lube in a bunch of stuff, but it hadn't prevented his cheeks from burning as he paid. On his drive back, his mind wandered to thoughts of having sex. The night that Dean had fallen into that fever, it had been so good between them. Just thinking about that and recalling the image of Dean with his legs chained threatened to get him hard. Dammit. Now he was turning into Dean with his one track mind.

By the time he got back to the motel, a couple hours had passed. He had picked up food and beer, so when he pulled out of the car, he had a lot of packages. When he pushed the door of their room open, he listened to the sound of utter silence, and sighed out loud.

The lights were out. It had been daylight when he'd left, now he realized Dean had been left in the dark. He didn't know whether Dean could reach the light switch or not.

Crossing the room, he looked in and hit the light switch. "Got you something, if you're hungry." He dropped the bag holding a small bowl of soup and a pastrami sandwich with fries next to Dean, giving him a choice as to whether he felt well enough to have the sandwich or not.

* * *

Dean hadn’t moved from the position he’d been in since Sam left.

Surprisingly, he’d fallen asleep at some point. Probably from sheer exhaustion, having just recovered from such a serious fever, though he certainly felt all right now. More than all right, he felt pretty damn good, which only made his mood darken even more if it were possible. If he were human there was no way he’d have recovered as fast as he had. But he wasn’t human anymore… and the little things that kept reminding him of that were starting to really get to him.

Little things? Fuck, how about the big things? Like growing claws and attacking his brother? Those were pretty damn big things.

Dean sighed heavily, sitting back against the wall, stretching a little, but he didn’t bother to get up. He realized what had woken him when he heard the familiar sound of the Impala’s door shut. Sam was back. Was he surprised? He almost was. Not that he really thought his brother would run off and leave him chained up in a bathroom and not ever come back. But considering how pissed his brother had been, he was more surprised Sam was back so soon.

He listened to the younger man moving around in the other room when he came in. Tensing a little when he heard Sam approach the bathroom, not sure what to expect. He couldn’t stop from wincing and blinking rapidly to clear his vision when the sudden burst of light nearly blinded him for a second. Dean looked up at his brother with an uncertain expression when Sam dropped the paper bag down next to him.

“Thanks.” He replied softly, his stomach already rumbling a little from the smell of the French fries alone. Despite recalling his brother’s little jab about pleasant eating atmosphere as he reached for the bag, he didn’t hesitate digging in. 

* * *

Guess they were still not talking. Heart sinking lower, Sam walked back inside the bedroom and setting aside his food, took out the power drill and other equipment he’d gotten from he hardware store.

Then he flipped on the television and put the volume up as high as it would go. Getting on Dean’s bed, on his knees, he used a stud finder to find the beam behind the wall board. Drilling into it, not too high above the mattress, Sam used toggle bolts that could withstand hundreds of pounds of pressure, to secure metal rungs to the wall. He’d threaded hand cuffs through them, ones his dad had left behind and which were

Picking up the remote, he lowered the volume of the t.v. and set it on the nightstand. It had been irritating to him, he could only imagine how much Dean had loved it. And that pissed him off too... the fact he hadn’t yelled at him to shut it off or something.

His last task was to set up cuffs that attached to the footboard. They wouldn’t be as secure as the ones in the wall beam, but in conjunction with each other, should more than adequately hold a werewolf. Or a stubborn ass of a brother.

Looking around the ground, Sam found the key Dean had tossed earlier, the one that secured him to the toilet. He picked it up, walked to the door and looked in. At least Dean was acting normal in that he was almost done stuffing his face, and his cheeks were puffed out with too big a bite of food. Saying nothing, he dropped the key down next to his brother and went back in.

He’d done what he could. If Dean wanted to be a stubborn ass, then there was nothing else he could do. Settling down on dad’s bed, he opened up his now cold sandwich, and started to eat with the remote in his other hand, looking for something to watch since he was getting the silent treatment.

* * *

  
_What the fuck is he doing?_ Dean wondered, frowning and tossing a glare towards the open bathroom door when Sam turned the television on all the way up to the max. But he couldn’t see his brother from this angle and couldn’t hear anything over the noise of the TV to tell him what his brother was doing, other than being an asshole.

So Dean ignored it, to the best of his abilities, even though the volume with his much more sensitive hearing was giving him a terrible headache. Couldn’t the bastard at least have found something good on to watch rather than some fucking infomercial?

After some time, the volume on the TV finally lowered and Dean couldn’t help but smirk to himself. The fact that Sam’s efforts to annoy him had probably annoyed his brother just as much.

Dean continued stuffing his face in the relative peace, surprised just how hungry he was, though he probably shouldn’t be considering how sick he’d been he probably hadn’t had any food and barely any water for at least a day. He looked up when he heard his brother at the door, and frowned when Sam said nothing, just tossing something to him, before leaving again. Dean looked down at the key the other man had thrown down on the tile next to him and his frown only deepened.

Damn stubborn asshole.

Dean ignored it. For now. Next time Sam stuck his head in if he didn’t take it back he might just bean the younger man in the head with it, or flush it down the toilet. See how Sam liked that. He was doing this to keep his brother safe, why was it so difficult for Sam to understand that? He didn’t want there to be any reason for him to be unchained, so he couldn’t take Sam by surprise, so he couldn’t hurt him again… Dean just knew that was the reason it had happened, because Sam was too damn trusting. Sam couldn’t trust him. If Sam wasn’t going to treat him like the dangerous animal he was, then this was the only way. 

* * *

An hour passed, and there was no movement from the bathroom. Dean was apparently prepared to sacrifice his comfort, to martyr himself. Everything he’d said, which really was a handful of sentences, replayed in Sam’s mind over and over.

So Dean thought he couldn’t handle him. One injury and that painted him as some chump who wouldn’t do whatever was necessary to keep Dean under control. And he gave no credit at all to his discovery that submission worked. Fine, whatever. He glared toward the bathroom, and channel surfed some more, intentionally landing on channels that would bug his brother. Maybe if he wanted control of the remote, he might just use that damned key.

Another half hour passed, and still nothing. Not even a word was exchanged between them. Biting back a curse, Sam pulled to his feet and walked out of the room without saying anything. He drank a coffee in the diner next door, withstanding the waitress’ jokes about him being broody. If you had Dean as your brother, you’d be damned broody too, he wanted to yell, instead of giving her the good natured smile that he did.

When he was done, he headed back to the room, cutting a small gash in his arm ten feet before he reached the door. He stumbled, grunting as his head hit the door. Clumsily, he fiddled with the key, and finally opening the door, slammed it shut.

An almost inaudible groan broke out of him as he all but fell onto the chair directly in front of Dean’s bed. “Fuck… ahh…” he swallowed hard and took deep breaths, refusing to answer any questions put to him by Dean. 

* * *

Dean finished eating, tossed his trash in the waste basket, and sighed softly as he leaned back against the wall. Listening for a long time to the sounds coming from the other room, wondering if maybe he should have hid the remote before locking himself in here, considering the shows his brother liked to watch and he would now be forced to listen to. But if Sam wanted to act childish about this, what could he really do? Fuck, it was usually him being the immature one and Sam acting all “responsible”. He wasn’t really liking this role reversal, not one bit.

He wished he could talk to Dad. Tell him what had happened. He was certain that their father would agree with him that this wasn’t an unnecessary precaution, or whatever Sam believed, and maybe that would get his brother off his back.

Did Sam really think he _wanted_ to be chained up like this? Hell no, but he was still willing to do it because it needed to be done. If he couldn’t even be trusted to follow the cycle of a normal fledgling werewolf, that were usually only dangerous during the phases of the full moon. Dean could only guess that he was “different” like a few of the older werewolves he’d seen during his months of captivity, was because Cassandra herself was so old. Powerful. When she bit him, some of that must have been transferred to him too.

Just his fucking luck.

So if he couldn’t be trusted not to turn at any fucking time, how could Sam trust him at all? Dean wasn’t willing to take that risk. Not with Sam. If his brother wanted to throw a tantrum like a five year old girl about it, well, he didn’t have much choice but to sit here and endure it, did he? Or maybe he would use the key, unlock the chains when Sam was asleep and slip out. Get as far away from his brother as he could… maybe he’d check in every once in a while, see if their dad or Sam found anything else regarding a possible cure, and if not…

Hearing the television click off and the door to their room open and close brought Dean out of his thoughts and he couldn’t help but frown towards the doorway again. Just where the fuck was Sam off to this time? Couldn’t he at least tell him where he was going? Why did his brother have to be such an annoying prick sometimes! Sure, Dean knew it was probably part of the annoying little brother’s handbook, but still!

Dean waited, more than half tempted to unlock himself just to go hunt his brother down and beat his ass, growing more agitated the longer Sam was gone. Sighing with no small amount of relief when he heard the door open again, until he caught the scent of fresh blood, heard his brother stumble, his soft groan and curse of pain.

“Sam?” He asked worriedly, his heart beginning to beat harder and faster in his chest when there was no response. “Sam! Answer me. Damn it, this isn’t funny!” Still no answer, and Dean began to panic. Grabbing the key his brother had left on the floor, immediately grateful that he hadn’t flushed it like he’d considered before, he unlocked the chains as fast as he could. Stood and rushed out to the other room. Seeing Sam slumped unmoving in the chair by the bed, he was by the younger man’s side in an instant. About as close to freaking out as he ever was, as he tried to check the other man for injuries.

“Sam, what happened? Sam…”

* * *

Perfect.

“God... Dean, help me up,” he said as if he was forcing the words out. He put his arm on Dean’s shoulder, the one dripping with blood and sure to hold his brother’s attention as he forced Dean to bear most of his weight. “Thought I could...”

A few steps, and they were close to the bed. He could practically hear his brother’s heart slamming against his chest, his face worried and angry. Yeah... he’d feel guilty about this, later. “You know... handle...”

Just as Dean’s knees hit the mattress, Sam brushed his mouth over his brothers. “Sorry ...” he whispered, his hand snaking out like a whipcord to grab a length of chain he’d left on the bed, and simultaneously shoving Dean back, using his weight to force Dean to fall.

His brother wasn’t going down easy, not that he’d expected him to. As his brother’s hands reached for him, Sam wrapped the length of chain around Dean’s throat and shoulder, using it to force him all the way down to the bed.. “God you look hot, Dean. Fuck, I gotta tap that,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing Dean again. Keeping Dean confused as to what the hell was going on was his best chance of getting this down without setting Dean off.

As they kissed, he managed to get the cuff at the end of the chain around one of Dean’s wrists. Having secured one of his brother’s arms, he was able to pull the chain away from his throat, though he kept the weight of his body on top of Dean, straddling his hips as he sat up and secured his other wrist.

With the chain loose as it was, Dean’s hands were free to move. Sam changed that in a minute. Leaning forward to the wall, he tugged on the main chain that fed to the ones attached to the cuffs. The instant he pulled on it, Dean’s wrists were pulled up over his head and against the wall. Sam twisted the chain around a hook, and sat back, grinning slightly. “What’s your _safe word_ , Dean, he whispered, inching his brother’s shirt up and grinding himself down on him. Maybe if he made this about sex, there wouldn’t be a fight.

* * *

As the elder man worriedly tried to check his brother’s wounded arm that was bleeding, waiting for Sam to tell him what the fuck had happened, the last thing Dean had been expecting was to have Sam suddenly in his arms. He supported his brother’s weight when the younger man suddenly stood up easily enough, but he definitely didn’t think Sam should be standing up at all right now, considering all the weight the younger man was putting on him.

He tried to push Sam back down into the chair, even as his brother’s broken words confused the hell out of him. Handle? Handle what?

“Sammy, it’s ok. Sit down. Just lemme look…” Dean tried to reason with his distressed brother when he felt his knees bump into the edge of the bed, and before he could think too much on how exactly he’d gotten here, Sam was kissing him. Dean startled a little in shock, but didn’t kiss his brother back. Too worried at the moment, was the other man delirious? Had he lost that much blood or was in that much pain?

Before he could push his brother away however Sam was pushing him, shoving him was more like it, and bearing him down with more strength than he thought the younger man could have possessed right now. Dean worried about fighting back, not wanting to injure his brother further, but he had to check that arm, stop the bleeding, find out what the hell had happened.

He tried to grab his brother, hold him still, but the chain that was suddenly wrapped around his throat, almost choking him, kicked his survival instinct suddenly into overdrive and he struggled harder in spite of himself.

“Sam, stop…” He tried to reason, even as Sam’s words, not to mention the tongue his brother suddenly shoved into his mouth, shocked him so much for a moment he froze in place. What the fuck!? Had Sam lost his mind?! That moment of indecision cost him dearly.

As Sam pinned him in place with the full weight of his body, Dean felt the cold metal cuffs click around his wrists, and then his arms were suddenly forcefully yanked above his head. He stared at the younger man for a moment, anger, fear, worry, and confusion all warring together for a moment before Sam sat back on him, looking all too smug, and understanding finally dawned. Sam wasn’t hurt. Sam had been fucking playing him. Fear melted away and fury rose up quick and hot inside him then.

“You fucking bastard! Get the fuck off me!” Dean practically snarled as he yanked hard on the chains holding his wrists but they didn’t budge, not even an inch. “Let me up!” He ordered, though to be honest maybe it would be a good idea if Sam didn’t because he was seriously considering strangling the younger man for this little stunt.

* * *

  
Sam just ran his hands up and down Dean’s abs and chest, not reacting to his brother’s temper tantrum. “Uh uh, not until you calm down. I know you think I’m stupid... I’m not.”

He met Dean’s furious gaze and held it. “And that I’m weak... I’m not, really, I’m not. But I’m tired of explaining that to you. You want to remember your little kid brother who didn’t quite have the right edge... fine, do it. But you’re just closing your eyes and mind to what’s in front of you now, fooling yourself..”

Bending forward, he licked a trail up Dean’s stomach, lifting his face up when he felt Dean tense and thought he might uses his legs to capture or roll him. “Uh uh, use your legs as a weapon, and I will fucking tie them down too. The cuffs are ready. Or you might manage to hurt me again.” Yeah, he hit below the belt. It worked with the wolf... it sure as hell had to work with his brother.

“One more thing. You cool off... get in a little better anger management, and you can come with me tonight. We’re almost out of money and we’re gonna need to hustle or steal. “I can do it with you or without you. But if you’re in _this_ mood, you will get what you wanted... stuck in the room.”

He licked his lips. “Look, I know you’re mad I tricked you. I’m sorry about that, about the way I did it. I know you care about me. I know hurting me is your worst nightmare. I know all this and a lot more, Dean. And I know where your buttons are, and when necessary, I will push every one of them. Physical, mental, emotional... whatever it takes, but I _will_ keep you from doing anything you don’t want, I swear I will.”

Suddenly he realized his hand had crept down over Dean’s fly. Yeah, he’d been kidding about the chains... but now that he had his brother under him, helpless and tied up, all sorts of heat was flooding through his system. Which was all sorts of wrong... he knew that. His mind knew it. But his brain didn’t. His hardening cock was paying no attention. And his heart was beating so damn fast you’d think they were having sex.

* * *

It was distracting, to say the least, when Sam’s hands began sliding up under his shirt. His palms rubbing firmly over his stomach making his muscles flutter and clench beneath them. His fingers grazing over his nipples, making his breath and heart rate speed up for an entirely different reason than before. It made it hard for Dean to focus on being angry at what Sam had done to get him here when he was beginning to enjoy being here. The younger man’s touch, the way his brother was grinding his ass against his crotch, making it hard to think at all beyond his growing arousal. The heat of lust trying to replace the heat of anger in his eyes despite his best efforts to ignore the way Sam was playing with him. His brother literally using sex against him, and Dean didn’t appreciate it in the least.

No, he wanted to protest, he didn’t think Sam was weak. He’d never thought Sam was weak, he knew his brother could handle himself. But that didn’t mean that Dean wasn’t stronger than him, didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Why was _that_ so fucking hard for Sam to understand?

Fine, maybe Dean was a little bit guilty of still seeing Sam as his “little” brother who needed looking after, but Sam was guilty too. Of only seeing him as the big brother who’d never lay a finger on Sam to hurt him, part of Dean still was that, but he had something else inside of him now too. Something Sam couldn’t reason with, and something Dean couldn’t control, that _would_ hurt or even kill his brother.

Dean tensed when Sam leaned down, sliding his tongue up his stomach, his muscles clenching and his breath hitching in spite of himself, and he knew he had to get Sam off of him now. He was done letting his brother play with him like this. But when Sam made his threat to chain his legs down too, Dean’s eyes widened in shock at first. And if that wasn’t enough to make him freeze almost as still as stone, Sam’s next blow, reminding him how he might hurt him _again_ if he fought back, the elder man’s expression fell as though Sam had just killed his puppy or something.

Dean swallowed hard and looked away from the younger man, all the fight leaving him abruptly and his body went utterly limp beneath his brother’s weight. Of course he heard Sam mention going out later on to hustle for some money but he honestly didn’t know what the hell his brother expected him to say about that _now_. He didn’t know what his brother expected him to say about anything. Fine, Sam knew how to “handle” him. Knew how to play him. Knew exactly what to do and say to “keep him in line”. He’d made his point. Clearly. Why didn’t it make him feel any better?

* * *

Nothing was working. Not his attempts to sex Dean up. Not his attempts to tease him out of this mood. Not even a slap of reality, telling him how it was and that he didn’t have to worry... that Sam could take care of himself. Sam felt as if his heart was being squeezed.

“So we’re back to this. You won’t talk to me or look at me, and I’m just... God damn it. God damn you, Dean,” he lifted himself off his brother and clear to the edge of the bed, his legs planted on the floor as he braced his face in his hands.

“I just didn’t want to see chained to a fucking toilet and on a bathroom floor, is there something wrong with that? You’re chained, you can’t get away... it’s just as good, only you’re on a soft bed, and we can talk... or whatever else, and you REALLY think I should have left you there.” He rubbed his eyes and gave a weary sigh.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I used to be able to read you. Used to be every fucking word out of my mouth wasn’t wrong, or everything I did. And hell, even when you thought it was, you’d just get it out of your system instead of this...” His voice broke as he used his thumb and index finger to wipe the tears threatening to fall from the inner corners of his eyes. “I try... I really do.” He bit his lip. “I should have gone and dad should have stayed, because you don’t _need_ me Dean, you don’t.”

* * *

Dean flinched more than a little when Sam finally gave him what he’d “wanted” climbing off of him, and the elder man closed his eyes in misery. Yeah. God damn him. This was so fucked up. He was so fucked up. More than he’d ever realized and a lot of it had nothing to do with the whole damned werewolf thing.

Yes, a big part of him believed that Sam should have just left him there on that damned floor. It had been hard as hell putting the chains on himself, but at least it had been _his_ choice. Then Sam had tricked him, in one of the worst possible ways. Pretending to be hurt to chain him up here, to the bed, instead.

Maybe there was little difference. Being chained up in the bathroom versus the bed, but in his mind there was a huge fucking difference. One of them had been his choice, the other one hadn’t. He might have been helpless both times, but here he actually felt helpless. Just like he’d felt with _them_. He’d been a prisoner for six fucking months, beaten, tortured, starved, trapped, helpless…

He’d panicked, plain and simple. His whole being rebelled against those feelings, being forced to endure them all over again, even though logically of course he knew Sam wasn’t like them, wasn’t like her. Sam would never hurt him that way, just like he would never hurt Sam… except he had. That thing inside of him had. That thing that also rebelled at the idea of being caged, trapped, and helpless. He was so afraid of what it might do, especially to the one it might consider its captor, regardless of the fact it also saw Sam as its “mate”.

Dean felt all the hopelessness Sam felt and more. He didn’t know what to do anymore than Sam did. His feelings were so jumbled up and twisted inside of him. One part proud of Sam for what he’d done, the other hating him for it. One part deathly afraid of what he was, what he might do, to his brother, and the other needing Sam so much he felt he couldn’t breathe without him.

Dean’s eyes snapped open when Sam said he should have gone. He shook his head, even though Sam’s back was to him and couldn’t see him. Sam’s back… that Dean had clawed up like an animal… Dean barely managed to swallow down the sick feeling that rose up in inside of him. The chains rattling around his wrists as he instinctively tried to reach out for the younger man, and couldn’t.

“Sammy… I do… please… I’m sorry…” He tried to keep his voice from trembling, breaking, hating how it made him feel even more helpless, but he couldn’t. He was so god damned tired of apologizing. It felt like that was all he did, was apologize to Sam for hurting him. Could he possibly fuck things up any more? “You’re right, ok? I’m fucked up. I’m going out of my mind, Sam. I’m trying to hold on… and every day it gets harder. She said it would get harder… Fuck!”

Dean’s hands clenched into fists and he kicked at the footboard of the bed angrily. How many times had they had this same “discussion”, how many more times? How many more times would he wish Sam hadn’t found him on that bridge or that he’d managed to eat a bullet before his brother had come back to the room? How soon before Sam began to wish the same thing?

“I don’t know what to do… I don’t…” His strongest instinct had always been to protect his brother. What the hell was he supposed to do when he couldn’t even trust that instinct anymore? What the hell was he supposed to do…

* * *

Was all this about his new werewolf hormones? Maybe Dean couldn’t help it. Maybe it wasn’t his own attitude, but this thing’s inside him. The anguish in his brother’s voice. The rare apology. That made him want to break down right there. Made him want to give up. Only he couldn’t... he never would where Dean was concerned.

Biting his lower lip, he took a moment, trying to stop the flood of tears, trying to get a hold of himself. A few breaths, a quiet sniffle later, and a sleeve brushed over his eyes was what he allowed himself, before rolling back on the bed, reaching up and loosening the damned chains.

He looked down into Dean’s equally strained features. “I can’t stand seeing you like this a moment before it’s necessary,” he shook his head before Dean started to argue with him. “You feel it’s necessary, fine... we’ll go with that.” His voice cracked slightly. “Just don’t shut me out Dean. Every time you do that, it gets harder.” His gaze dropped to Dean’s mouth but he dragged it away. “I can take anything, _except that._ ” It was worse than any physical blow, but he didn’t know if his brother would get that about him... about how he was hardwired. 

* * *

In those moments when Sam didn’t move, even to look at him as he spoke, Dean was afraid that his brother might just walk away from him and leave him like this. Maybe he’d finally pushed Sam to the limit. There was only so much anyone could take. Maybe Sam really had finally given up on him.

Then his brother was releasing the chains from their tightened position, allowing him to move his arms again, but Dean was almost afraid to. Even though every fiber of his being wanted to reach for Sam, to pull his brother close, and just hold onto him and never let go.

Dean swallowed hard. Don’t shut him out… how many times had Sam asked, begged, pleaded with him not to do that. Yet every time it came back to that. Every time it _did_ get harder. Dean had never been the “caring and sharing” type to begin with. His problems were just that, _his_ problems. He didn’t share his problems with anyone, especially not his brother. Because it was his job to look after Sam, his job to make sure the younger boy was always taken care of first and foremost.

If Sam had a problem, they dealt with it. If Dean had a problem, he dealt with it himself or he buried it. His dad had enough to deal with and didn’t need the extra hassle of his eldest son’s problems, and Sammy certainly didn’t need the burden of worrying about his big brother… it was the way things always had been.

This… wasn’t something that could be pushed aside or buried. This wasn’t something either of them could forget or pretend wasn’t there. This wasn’t something Dean could deal with on his own, though he tried, fuck he tried. He’d always needed Sam, but this time he really _needed_ Sam, and… fuck… that scared the shit out of him. Everything scared the shit out of him. Everything was changing. _He_ was changing. Every day. Losing himself a little more every day…

Dean licked his lips and nodded shakily. “Ok, Sammy. Ok.” He whispered, feeling like he’d said the same so often in the last… god… few weeks? It was so fucking hard to believe it had only been a few weeks… and in another couple more would be the full moon and he’d change completely.

Almost hesitantly Dean tugged on the now loosened chains giving himself enough slack to reach out for Sam and pull the younger man closer to him. Wrapping his arms around the younger man, careful of Sam’s back, hugging him close. Maybe it was a bad idea, but damn it, he needed this and he had a feeling his brother did too right now.

“Don’t fucking scare me like that again, Sam.” He said softly, even knowing he was being the pot calling the kettle black, “I can’t handle the thought of you hurt. Ever.”

* * *

Dean’s agreement didn’t extinguish the pain inside Sam’s heart. They’d been here... right here... before. And they’d be back, he was sure of it. ‘Okay Sam’ was just code for he’d try, or he’d do it for a while. “Sure, Dean,” he let his eyelids flutter shut, not wanting his brother to see too much.

That lump that was nestled in his throat grew larger as Dean pulled him down. He was so careful, so damned gentle, Sam knew he was still thinking about having clawed his back. One palm over Dean’s heart, he rested his head on Dean’s chest, snuggling close and nodding as Dean told him not to scare him again. “I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry.”

He’d been scared for Dean. Seeing him like that. Seeing the guilt and revulsion and reading between the lines, guessing that chaining himself to the toilet had been in part a punishment he’d meted out onto himself... that had scared the shit out of Sam. That and wondering if Dean would ever talk to him again.

He shouldn’t be this needy. If Dean wanted time to himself, he should be able to give it to him. Why couldn’t he do that for his brother? Why couldn’t he take the silences, even if they hurt? Why did he have to challenge Dean, force him to make it better?

Because Dean had always made things better. That’s why. Clutching a handful of Dean’s shirt, he lifted his face slightly and kissed Dean under the chin. Then again. Before he knew it, he was feathering kisses along his brother’s jaw line, and working his way to his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Dean,” he whispered between kisses. “I know it’s harder on you, and I shouldn’t push.”

Bracing himself on his elbows, he looked down into Dean’s face. “But I can’t help it. I _need_ you. I feel so fucking lost when you...slip away like that.” He didn’t have to say ‘shut down.’ Dropping his head down, he rested his lips over Dean’s for a moment. “Find me, find me Dean,” he begged, suddenly kissing him hard, pushing his tongue inside the heat of his brother’s mouth, demanding Dean take away the pain in the way only Dean could. “Please...find me.” He crushed his mouth down again, this time cupping the side of Dean’s face and moaning lightly with need.

* * *

It always amazed Dean that even though his “little” brother was such a fucking giant now, that in moments like this, when the younger man was snuggled up against him, he felt just like the little scrawny kid he used to be in his arms. Even as he tugged his brother a little bit closer to him, running his fingers gently through Sam’s hair, and brushing his lips across the younger man’s forehead, Dean wondered if that was part of the problem, because though Sam would always be his “baby” brother, he definitely wasn’t little, scrawny, or a boy anymore.

Sam was a grown man. Dad had trained him, trained them both, to be deadly weapons even without a blade or gun in their hands. There was nothing but strength in the muscles beneath his hands, his brother more than a match for him, at least until this whole fucking werewolf thing… Sam was strong. So fucking strong, in so many ways. Though in moments like these Sam seemed so young, even fragile.

Dean needed both, he realized suddenly. He needed to know that Sam was strong, that he could handle anything, that nothing and no one (especially not him) could take his brother down. He needed to know Sam would always be safe, even when he wasn’t around. At the same time he needed Sam to need him, like his brother had always needed him, because it was all he knew how to be. For protection, for love… He needed Sam to look up to him, he needed Sam to want him, and he needed to be the barrier between Sam and all the fucking evils of the world.

Was it any wonder he was so fucked up?

Dean made soft soothing noises, whispered reassurances, when he felt his brother’s desperate kisses along his neck and jaw.

“It’s ok. It’s ok, Sammy. Shh…” He whispered in reply to his brother’s apologies. Looking up at Sam with all the adoration in the world, brushing his fingertips over the younger man’s face, his heart aching and fluttering in his chest like a girl’s at the same time. It seemed Sam always knew what to say, what to do, to bring him back. Always giving him exactly what he needed, even though he didn’t know it, or might not like it, at the time.

His hand slipping through his brother’s hair to cradle the back of his skull, Dean pulled his brother in close, licking his way into Sam’s mouth and kissing him hungrily. His cock that had already been a little interested by Sam’s actions earlier, more than ready to pick up where things had left off. His other hand slid down to grip his brother’s hips hard, tugging Sam in close and arching a little beneath the younger man. Letting Sam feel just how much his brother was affecting him. How Sam always affected him.

“You’re right here, Sammy. Right here, with me. I’m right here. You always bring me back…” Dean whispered against his brother’s lips, kissing him again with a needy moan. 

* * *

There was a desperate edge to Sam’s kisses, the way he clutched Dean, clinging to him like his brother might evaporate. He needed Dean in so many ways, so many… but he didn’t think Dean understood that. “Right here,” he echoed, shoving his hands under Dean’s tee shirt, fingers splayed wide and touching him, groping him hard, like he was proving to himself that his brother was still there… that they both were.

He moved over Dean, forcing his lower body down harder over him, his tongue battling his brothers, his hands roaming, memorizing, gripping, apologies and assurances breaking from him each time he remembered the bleakness of the hours before, when he thought he was alone again. “Love you, Dean,” he said shakily, meaning every word. “Love you.”

He heard the clinking of chains and sucked his breath in as a rush of unexpected excitement flooded his system. Lifting his head slightly, he looked behind him, at Dean’s hand, his wrist cuffed, chained… His gaze followed the chain to the wall, and he bit his lower lip, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. Wasn’t it sick that the sight of Dean like this made him wild with need? After he’d seen his brother chained like an animal by the werewolves, after he’d protested the chaining to the toilet… how the fuck could he feel like this.

Breathing hard, he swallowed. “Dean, I….” Bracing his weight on his arms and lifting up, a question in his eyes, he forced the words out. “Probably shouldn’t… not like this…” But his body was screaming for it. His cock was hard, and throbbing, straining against his zipper and pressing into his brother’s hip. And his mind… holy hell, he’d thought he liked it when Dean held him down but the sight of Dean in chains was doing things to his insides… making him so fucking hot, he thought he might explode. 

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but groan as Sam’s hands slid possessively up underneath his shirt, caressing his chest, grazing over his nipples, and the elder man arched again, greedy for more of his brother’s touch. He caressed Sam’s hips, his sides, and ass, carefully not to slide his hands too far up on the younger man’s back. He didn’t want to hurt Sam any more. Dean was almost afraid to ask his brother how much it _did_ hurt still. He would do anything to take that pain away.

Near constant moans of pleasure spilled from his lips as his brother straddled him, rocking their hips together, feeling the younger man’s arousal pressing firmly against him. His own dick growing even harder, trapped inside his jeans.

“Love you too, Sammy. Always…” The heartfelt words spilled from his lips easily. Surprisingly easily. He didn’t even care if the younger man ribbed him later for all this girly romantic talk. It was true. Plain and simple truth. No matter what else changed, this would always be true. Always.

Sam’s sharp intake of breath made him afraid for a moment he _had_ accidentally hurt his brother again. But then he noticed the younger man’s gaze going to the cuffs around his wrists, saw his blush, smelt the spike in arousal, and Dean couldn’t help but grin at Sam.

“Never realized you were so damned kinky, baby brother.” Dean teased, and without a word he lifted his arms above his head again. A part of him didn’t really like the idea of what he was offering, the idea of being helpless like this. There was a big difference between what they’d done before, Sam being in control, telling him not to move and Dean obeying, and simply not being able to. But this was Sam and he trusted his brother with his life and more. If this was what Sam wanted, it was the least he could do… and it wasn’t as though his cock was complaining.

“Go ahead.” 

* * *

When Dean teased him, Sam’s embarrassment had doubled and he’d been almost ready to make his escape. Then Dean raised his hands up and the sight of him chained up like that, incredible heat pooled low in Sam’s belly. His flush darkened.

Then his brother gave him the go ahead, and nothing could stop him. Nothing.

Stretching to the wall, he pulled on the chain to secure it so that Dean’s hands wouldn’t fall down again, then he swallowed. “I didn’t know either, Dean.”

Sliding a hand under Dean’s neck, he pulled him up off the mattress, his eyes sweeping over is brother’s straining muscles from shoulder to the cuffs before he lowered his mouth and kissed him. Hardly knowing what to do with the intensity of lust wreaking havoc with his system, he crushed their mouths together in a furious kiss. His tongue wove in and out of Dean’s mouth, hard and fast, even when they both ran out of breath and it was almost painful to continue.

All he knew was that his hormones were raging out of control. Maybe it was from all the fear of losing his brother. Maybe it was because he was kinky. Sam didn’t know... didn’t care... it just had to be this way, right now, it had to be this way.

His hand moved down Dean’s semi bare chest. He lifted up and started to undo Dean’s belt, then broke the kiss, sat up and pulled the belt completely off. Looking down at his brother’s swollen mouth, knowing he was responsible, his eyes burned with heat.

He unbuttoned and unzipped Dean, moving back and pulling his brother’s jeans off in one strong tug. His gaze fell to where Dean’s shorts tented up, and made his breath catch. A second later, he tore the shorts off Dean and tossed it on the ground. He peeled off is own shirt and tee shirt, and jeans, dropping them down onto the same pile before.

Naked except for the tee shirt pushed up his chest, chained, and eyes dark with lust, Dean looked so damned hot. The fact that his cock was erect was just and crying out for some attention was just a bonus. No it was Dean being Dean.

Sam would have smiled if he could have. Instead, he used his knees to part Dean’s legs wider, then dropped down and closed his fist around is brother’s cock. He moved his hand up and down Dean’s shaft, twisting his wrist and taking in his brother’s expressions before licking his crown and slowly taking it into his mouth.

* * *

If anything the darkening blush that began at his brother’s cheeks and traveled down his neck, maybe even his chest, either from embarrassment, arousal, or both, caused heat to flow southward in Dean as well. His cock swelling even more in the confinement of his jeans and just knowing how much this was turning his brother on was quickly evaporating any sense of unease or hesitation he might have at being chained up, helpless, and allowing the younger man to do anything he wanted with him.

His heart rate climbed steadily as Sam tightened the chains once more. Dean tugged on them experimentally and of course they didn’t budge an inch. The hunger in his brother’s eyes made him groan and his lips parted, his breath quickening, when Sam tugged him up. His arms straining against the cuffs and his second groan was lost into his brother’s mouth as Sam devoured him.

Sam ravaged his lips, claiming him, and it was all Dean could do just to moan in pleasure under the treatment. His brain short circuiting and hardly any other thought managing to penetrate through the fog of lust but how good it felt, how good Sam tasted, how much he never wanted the kiss to end. His moans only increasing in volume as his brother’s hands mapped every inch of the flesh of his chest on their way down to his jeans.

When his brother finally broke their kiss Dean was left gasping. Barely having enough control over his own shaking muscles as he lifted his hips to help Sam remove his belt and strip off his jeans and underwear, leaving him nearly bare under his brother’s raking gaze. Dean groaned and licked his lips as he watched Sam strip himself just as quickly, more breathless gasps escaping his lips as his brother pushed his legs apart wider. Somehow feeling even more naked and exposed still wearing his shirt pushed up so high on his chest and naked everywhere else.

“Fuck yeah…” He whispered, his hips bucking up, thrusting into his brother’s fist that wrapped around him. His arms straining even more against the chains, his fingers practically itching to reach down and grasp his brother’s hair, tugging Sam’s mouth down to where he wanted it, but unable to. God, he was just realizing how much his brother could torture him right now, tease him, make him wait, make him beg…

“Sammy…” Dean moaned his brother’s name, his head falling back in pleasure as he arched beneath the younger man. Trying to push himself deeper into Sam’s hot wet mouth, spreading his legs even wider, silently begging for more.

* * *

Dean's reactions ratcheted up the tension coiling in Sam's belly. Though he refused to take all of Dean inside his mouth just yet, he stroked his shaft with his fist and sucked his tip, making sounds of pleasure geared to make his mouth vibrate around Dean's dick.

The harder Dean got, the harder Sam got. His cock ached and pulsed between his legs, and yet he had no relief. He pulled off Dean's tip, and bent lower, licking up from Dean's balls along the underside of his shaft to his tip. "Taste salty." He pressed the flat of his tongue against the side of Dean's cock, then tried to suck. "Damn, you're so hard your skin's pulled too tight."

He sensed Dean was getting impatient. "You want to fuck my mouth, don't you? You want me to take you deep and suck you off. I'll do it Dean, but you gotta tell me what you want... exactly what you want."

The thought of Dean talking dirty had his cock twitching. But the brief silence had Sam slightly irritated. He stopped squeezing Dean and let his cock rest against his mouth, letting Dean feel as he spoke. "What do you want? Some tongue action? Mouth? A handjob? Or you want to fuck me?" Turning his face slightly, he licked the inner part of Dean's thigh, and sucked on it, very aware this was the place his brother had been marked by that bitch. But Dean was his now... whether she knew it or not.

* * *

Dean growled low in his throat, loving the feel of Sam’s mouth and hand teasing his cock and hating it at the same time. More, he needed more damn it. He needed to feel the heat of his brother’s mouth all around him, he needed to feel Sam sucking on him and stroking him with his tongue while he thrust his dick between those perfect lips. He wanted to feel himself so far, so deep, that Sam had to take him into his throat. Sam’s saliva and his own come slicking lubing him up and letting him slide easily, feeling his brother moaning around him.

Instead Sam continued to tease him, giving him only a taste of what he really wanted. Sucking only on his head. Pulling off him with an obscene pop to lick up his shaft, the younger man’s tongue leaving a trail of fire up his cock followed quickly by the cold air once it was gone. His hips kept jerking up, thrusting himself between Sam’s fingers, providing him some friction but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what he really wanted, and he couldn’t do anything about it but wait until Sam gave it to him.

Dean gave his brother a look that said he might just contemplate fratricide if the younger man didn’t get on with it. Groaning like he was in pain as Sam asked him what he wanted. Sam knew damn well what he wanted. Though when Sam asked him to _tell_ him exactly what he wanted, Dean couldn’t help but remember the last time his brother had asked him similar. Remembering just how hot it had made the younger man before they’d been… interrupted.

The elder man groaned as Sam began to suck on his inner thigh, so close to where he really wanted it, his cock throbbing in the younger man’s hand Dean barely was able to manage to think much less speak. But knowing Sam could leave him like this indefinitely if he didn’t give Sam what he wanted was more than enough incentive to find his voice. That, and knowing Sam would probably do anything he asked right now, as long as he described it in graphic enough detail.

“I want you to turn around, 69 baby, and wrap your lips around my cock and take me in your mouth slowly. I want you to take me all the way while you play with my balls. I want you to let me fuck up into your mouth, getting me all wet. Dripping wet.” Dean whispered, licking his lips and moaning just imagining how fucking good it was going to feel. His voice lowering an octave, trying to keep himself from coming as he continued.

“While you’re sucking on my cock I want to watch you finger yourself open. I want to watch you fuck yourself while I suck on your cock. I want to use my tongue inside of your while you use your fingers, get you nice and wet. Then I want you to get on my cock and ride me until you scream. 

* * *

Sam practically stilled as his brother came through. Every dirty, nasty word that fell from Dean's lips made his body pulse with hunger... an absolute need to make the words come true. Graphic images of Dean branding his mouth, and his ass, in his own special way, tortured his mind, pushed Sam to the very edge. Giving an almost animalistic groan, Sam crawled up Dean's body and looked him in the eyes.

"You had me at 69. Where the fuck did you learn to talk this dirty?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead bringing his mouth down hard over Dean's and sweeping his tongue inside, exploring every inch, tongue fucking it the way he imagined Dean would be fucking his mouth. By the time he lifted his head, both their mouths were swollen, and he tasted blood.

His heart was beating so damned hard, it felt like his chest was about to explode. He leaned over and grabbed the package on the night stand, dropping it on the bed, then sat up again. Lips pressed tightly closed together he started to collect and swish spit in his mouth, making sure Dean knew what he was doing, before he glanced at the chains one last time and changed positions, straddling Dean's chest and facing Dean's now dripping cock.

He palmed Dean's balls, squeezing them gently a few times as he bent over to take his cock in his wet mouth. He was so hot, so hard—like steel—he was desperately grinding his own cock against Dean's chest and couldn't worry about how he looked to Dean, with his ass facing his brother.

He took Dean's cock, every inch of it in his mouth, relaxing his throat as he allowed himself time to get used to it before sucking hard. Feeling Dean nudge his cock even deeper into his mouth, Sam got to work, sucking moving his mouth up and down his brother's length, squeezing his balls and holding him steady.

He didn't know if he set the punishing pace or if it was Dean with his own frantic motions, all he knew was that he could easily come against Dean's chest if he continued for too much longer. _Fuck_ Did Dean think he had superhuman concentration powers and could finger himself at the same time as this?

With his free hand, he fumbled with the paper bag he'd dropped on the bed. He retrieved the tube of lube he'd bought, pulled his mouth off Dean's cock and held the cap with his teeth so he could twist it open. It took a fraction of a second but Dean was already protesting the absence of his mouth. "Right here... fuck my mouth Dean, like you wanted," he said, opening for Dean and letting him push inside again.

Leaning forward, balancing himself, he shoved a lubed finger inside his hole. Sam's mouth pressed closed tighter around Dean as he got used to the pain and found a rhythm, taking care to make sure Dean could see his long middle finger appearing and disappearing inside him.

* * *

  


Dean couldn’t help but feel immensely pleased with himself by his brother’s reaction. The look of pure lust on Sam’s face. The sounds his brother made. An answering growl of lust and possession came from his own throat before he could stop it as the younger man crawled up the length of his body.

The elder man grinned, about to answer his brother, “Plenty of porno, Sammy.” But he couldn’t even get the first syllable out of his mouth before the younger man was crushing their lips together. Dean growled again, his arms straining against the shackles around his wrists wanting so badly to wrap around the younger man. Pull him even closer if it were possible. Tangle his fingers in his brother’s hair and control the kiss, but he could do none of those things. He was completely at his brother’s mercy, and happy to be there.

When Sam finally let him up to breathe he was panting hard. Dean licked his lips, tasting Sam and his own blood on them from where the younger man’s teeth had cut into his lip. He watched his brother intently as Sam did exactly as he asked, turning around, and he could see everything. All of Sam in all his glory. Sam’s huge hot dick pressing down on his chest, his brother’s well rounded, smooth, muscled ass, Sam’s thighs spread wide on either side of him, and that tight blushing hole so damned close.

Fuck, but he wanted his hands free so he could grasp those luscious cheeks, spreading his brother even wider, pulling the younger man closer to his mouth so he could kiss and lick and thrust his tongue deeply up into him. That thought, not to mention the feeling of his brother’s hot wet mouth descending over his aching cock made Dean groan obscenely loud. His hips lifting off the bed, shoving his dick deeper into Sam’s mouth before he could stop himself.

“Fuck, yeah… Sammy… just like that, take me deep into your mouth, little brother. So fucking hot, so wet…” Dean kept up the dirty litany of words, knowing how much Sam liked to hear them. Turning his head enough so that he could lick up his brother’s thigh. Sucking a bruise into the inner muscle of his brother’s thigh, marking him just as Sam had done.

It was so fucking good, he was almost beyond rational thought, his body controlled completely by the lust burning through his veins, so when Sam’s mouth left him Dean couldn’t stop the curses and protests that spilled from his lips. Needing his brother’s mouth on him again, right now, god damn it.

But he was struck silent a moment later when Sam went on to fulfill his next request. Dean watched intently as the younger man’s lubed up finger slipped past the tight ring of muscle, pushing deep inside his brother’s tight hole and groaned. When Sam’s mouth finally returned to his dripping cock, his brother giving him permission to fuck his mouth like he wanted, Dean couldn’t stop himself from moaning at the erotic sight and feel and he started to thrust his hips. Watching Sam’s finger sliding in and out. So close, so damned close. His thrusts between Sam’s gorgeous lips finding the same rhythm as that finger slipping so deep inside his brother’s body.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, baby brother. You’re so fucking hot…” Dean whispered, pulling, his muscles starting to ache as he strained against his restraints, trying to get closer as he kissed a wet path up his brother’s inner thigh. Caressing and teasing Sam’s flesh with his tongue, the only way he could touch the younger man at the moment. He lapped up to his brother’s balls, taking one into his mouth and then the other.

“Lean back, Sammy. Lemme taste you. Put in another finger, spread yourself open for me.” 

* * *

The sound of the chains clinking as Dean pulled against them inflamed Sam’s lust. Between that and his brother’s whispers... using all the right words... Sam was pushed to the very edge. His cock ached and pulsed and only fucking harder against Dean’s chest helped, but he couldn’t get that and fulfill Dean’s request too. The best he could do was thrust against Dean’s chest a few times, lift up to let Dean see his finger penetrating his ass and hold that position for as long as he could before fucking down on his chest again. It was torture, sheer torture.

Listening to his brother, he moved back a little and groaned as Dean took his balls in his mouth and sucked. _Oh God... oh God... need to come_ , he wanted to shout, but his words were unintelligible, muffled by Dean’s thick cock hitting the back of his throat with every thrust.

His body demanded release. He could get Dean to take his cock in his mouth. They could suck each other off. It wouldn’t take long and it would feel so damn good, so damn good to be allowed to come. He almost gave in to his needs, but Dean’s velvety soft request made him want to please his brother.

Groaning, almost as if he were in pain, Sam lifted his ass up higher and pushed his index finger into himself, forcing his fingers wide as he leaned back, bringing himself close to Dean’s face. He needed to come so bad, didn’t his brother know this? Couldn’t he feel it. _Please Dean... please..._  


* * *

Dean could tell Sam was close by the needy sounds his brother was making. He was fucking close too. His brother’s mouth sucking on his cock felt so damned good, taking everything he had to give, his brother’s spit dripping down his length, over his balls. It was amazing. Watching the younger man fucking himself on his fingers for him, letting him watch, fuck, it was so damned hot. It was making his dick throb in Sam’s mouth. Making him drip precome down his baby brother’s throat, he wanted so badly to be inside that tight dark heat.

When Sam did as he asked, inserting another finger into his hole, stretching himself and leaning back closer to his face, Dean groaned. Licking up behind his brother’s balls and not wasting a moment thrusting his tongue in alongside the younger man’s fingers. Dean moaned as he worked his tongue in as deep as he could, before pulling out. Flicking his tongue around the rim stretched so damned tight around his brother’s large fingers, before pushing in again.

Fucking Sam with his tongue while his brother fucked himself with his fingers, Sam sucking on his cock, he could come just like this, but his brother’s mouth wasn’t where he wanted to come. With an almost pained groan Dean pulled his cock out of the younger man’s mouth, and let his head fall back to the pillows. Panting heavily, trying to catch his breath and reign in his desire so he wouldn’t come the instant Sam touched him again.

“Now, Sammy. I want you to sit on my dick, take me into your tight ass. Fuck yourself on my cock, baby brother.”

* * *

The much subtler, softer sensation of a wet tongue teasing his hole and entering him, then teasing again, sent more heat straight to Sam’s cock. The ache was so unbearable, he was close to tears, afraid he would lose his internal battle to prevent himself from shoving his own cock down Dean’s throat.

Then Dean pulled out of his mouth. He was surprised, but quick to beg. “Dean please, can’t take this much long—“

And then Dean was calling him his baby brother and telling him he was ready to fuck him, and even before he mounted his brother, Sam was seeing flashes of white... like he did when Dean fucked him senseless before. Without turning around, he scrambled forward, lifted up and holding Dean’s dick, started to push himself down on it.

He screwed his eyes tight at the initial pain, biting his lip and throwing his head back, knowing there would be pleasure in a moment. Once he worked the head of Dean’s cock inside, he sat down, almost falling forward as he impaled himself . Taking a few breaths, he started to rock, then bounce up and down, a sound breaking from him as he found the right position for them.

Gripping Dean’s knee with one hand, and his hip with the other, Sam pushed up and down the length of Dean’s shaft, his movements growing wilder each time he clenched and released around his brother. “Fuck... fuck... Dean...” his jaw ached from gritting his teeth, his muscles strained and burned from the punishing pace he set for both of them. He was close... so fucking close... when the need to see Dean’s face, to see him struggling against the chains... rose inside him like a tidal wave he couldn’t fight.

Cursing, Sam pulled most of the way off Dean’s shaft, holding his dick as he turned bodily and re-impaled himself, this time facing Dean. His brother’s flushed face, the heat in his eyes, the sight of his muscles quivering as he pulled against the cuffs almost had Sam coming right there and then. Giving a tortured groan, he leaned forward and kissed Dean hard, taking his mouth, using it the way he was using his cock, brutally hard, before pulling back and fucking down on him as hard and fast as he could. His eyes were locked with his brothers as sounds started to break from him. He tried to hold them back, but it wasn’t in his control. No amount of fear of later teasing could keep them from slipping out. “Ahn... yeah ... Dean... yeah... fuck....”

The bed started to bang against the wall, but he couldn’t make himself care about that either. All that mattered was that he was here, and Dean was here, and they needed each other right now, like they needed to breath. 

* * *

Sam’s obvious enthusiasm, his need to get his big brother’s dick inside of him, made it hard for Dean to control himself. His muscles trembled from the strain of holding himself still when Sam’s fingers wrapped around his length, steadying himself. Somehow managing to stop himself from simply thrusting his hips up and burying himself completely into his brother when Dean felt the head of his cock pressing against that tight ring of muscle. Dean groaned, still able to taste the younger man on his tongue, he had to close his eyes and take several deep breaths to keep himself from coming right then and there.

The long low groan that broke from his throat as his brother eased himself down onto his thick cock was almost painful. It didn’t take long before the younger man was sitting down on his lap, his dick buried completely in that exquisite tight heat, and Dean forced his eyes open again. The world seemed to freeze for a few moments. He couldn’t even feel his own heart beating though it had been virtually slamming against his ribs a moment ago. All he could feel was Sam’s inner muscles wrapped around him so damn tight, so damned hot, encasing his length in a velvet soft, tight sheath. Perfect…

“Yeah.. yeah… oh god, Sam… so good…” Dean whispered between uncontrollable moans of pleasure as Sam began rise and fall on his lap, fucking himself on his cock just like he’d asked. Looking so god damned beautiful, like out of his most erotic wet dreams. Faster. Harder. Fuck, he was going to come so damned hard he might just go blind.

Sam suddenly stopped, rose almost completely off of his cock and Dean started to curse a blue streak in protest. But when the younger man turned around, leaving his dick still buried partly in his little brother’s ass as he did it, before impaling himself once again Dean threw his head back with a shout that was immediately lost by Sam’s crushing lips. Dean moaned wantonly into his brother’s mouth, his lips left bruised and aching, and the moans Sam drew from him as the younger man began fucking himself hard and fast on his dick were sinful.

“Sam… ah… god… Sam!” Dean cried out amidst unintelligible sounds of pleasure. Sweat was pouring over his face and chest. His muscles were on fire, straining so hard against the cuffs chaining him he knew there would be bruises around his wrists for a week. His dick was so damned hard, so damned sensitive, every movement Sam made was near torture. His balls so full and heavy he knew he was probably going to blow so hard his come would leak out of Sam’s ass for hours. It was unbearable. It was unbelievable. It was fucking perfect.

“SAMMY!” Dean screamed his brother’s name at the top of his lungs as the first convulsion hit him so hard it was a wonder he didn’t unseat his brother completely the way he bucked underneath the younger man. His come filling up his brother completely in the first spurt and predictably he felt it leaking out of the younger man around his cock, and it only made him shoot more. Moaning so loud and so dirty through his climax the neighbors probably didn’t even need to buy the pay per view porno to get their rocks off.

* * *

Only Dean could be tied up and under him and still fuck him like this, make him feel good like this. His brother’s jerky movements and cries told him he was gonna blow any moment, and Sam encouraged it, whispering “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me...” His eyes rolled back as Dean did just that, his balls tightening just as Dean shouted his name.

Biting his lower lip, Sam never stopped moving, riding Dean’s cock and squeezing his own cock as he came at almost the same time. Ropes of his cum coated Dean’s chest, just as Dean’s filled him. He kept grinding on Dean, riding the last waves of pleasure for as long as he could and for as long as he thought his brother could stand it before he got too sensitive to being touched.

As he slowed his movement, he crawled up Dean’s body, rubbing his mouth over his brothers. “How many laws you think we’ve broken today?” he whispered, sucking Dean’s lips, then lifting up to look in his eyes. “Thinking about _that_ will probably get you off again.”

After sharing a few more kisses, Sam mustered up the energy to detangle himself from Dean’s body, but collapsed right back down on him, laughing. “It’s a lot of work, being the only one who can move his hands. Wanna take a shower with me?” he asked, playfully biting Dean’s chin, but not directly asking if he could free him from the chains.

* * *

Feeling his brother’s hot come splash across his chest only had Dean shuddering even harder underneath the younger man, groaning like he was in pain as his brother’s body milked him for everything he was worth. Fuck. Sex with Sam had been intense, ever since the first time they’d fucked, but it only seemed to become even more so every time they were together like this. If it got any more so then he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to survive it.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his brother’s words whispered against his lips, looking up at the younger man with a teasing grin.

“You’re the kinky bastard of the family, Sammy. Remember?” The elder man arched an eyebrow at his brother and then winked. Licking and nipping at his brother’s lips, trading wet kisses with Sam, still able to taste himself on the younger man’s lips.

When Sam finally climbed off his softened dick, Dean groaned a little, only to huff out a sharp breath as the younger man’s heavy weight all but collapsed against his chest. He gave his brother a mock glare, but couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face seeing Sam laugh and goof off like this.

Dean hesitated a moment, knowing what his brother was really asking even though he hedged around the real issue. Finally the elder man nodded.

“Yeah…” Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he didn’t need to be chained up like this 24/7, not yet at least. But he definitely needed to be chained up during times when he might not have all of his senses about him. Like when he was sleeping, if he had some kind of nightmare or something and lost control… He would miss sleeping with his brother in his arms, but if that’s what it took to keep Sam safe.

“You made a mess on me.” He added, trying to keep the mood light for a change. 

* * *

Getting called a kinky bastard might have embarrassed him if Dean hadn’t kept him busy kissing and talking and grinning, all proud of himself for having tired Sam out. Then Dean was considering his answer to the suggestion that they shower together, and Sam practically held his breath.

When Dean said yes and joked about the mess Sam made, Sam gave him a brilliant smile. “Guess I’m responsible for cleaning you up, then.” He kissed Dean one more time, tenderly, running his fingers in circles over Dean’s flat nipples, the pulling up and getting off the bed.

Once up, Sam didn’t even hide the fact that he was looking Dean over one more time, memorizing the way he looked, all fucked out and tied up. Heat stole up his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “I could use a beer, bout now.” Yeah, he’d love to sit back on a chair and just stare at Dean. He really was a kinky bastard.

As he undid the cuffs around Dean’s wrists, he winced at the damage. He was about to ask whether Dean thought his wrists would heal quickly, but decided not to remind him of the big elephant in the room. Instead, kissing the inside of first one wrist, then the other, he freed him. “Might have to invest in something softer.” No, he wasn’t gonna mention leather or fur cuffs, hell, he would deny any knowledge of that. The glint in Dean’s eyes told him that would be best.

As they headed to the shower, Sam saw the door and blanched. Taking a deep, calming breath, he went and shoved the back of a chair under the handle. How had he forgotten? The look he directed to Dean who was slipping into the bathroom was very accusatory. It was his brother’s fault for being so damned tempting.

A few minutes later, they were in the hot shower, fighting and laughing as they each tried to get under the stream of the water. Sam fought off Dean’s lewd suggestions. “Dude...” he opened and closed his mouth a few times, testing his jaw. “I don’t know how girls do it... I feel like I’m about to get lockjaw.” Right, big mistake, because Dean looked smugger than usual now. Shaking his head, he grabbed the soap. “Turn... time for me to clean up my mess,” he said, washing every inch of his brother between horseplay and kissing.

* * *

Dean chuckled softly and nodded in agreement when Sam said it was his job to clean him up. Then his breath was catching in his throat as the younger man’s hands caressed over his already too sensitive skin, rubbing over his nipples, and making Dean shudder beneath the other man. Dean didn’t know whether to be relieved or curse Sam for getting off of him when he did. Though the way Sam looked down at him once he was standing sent a flash of heat through him anyway and made him wonder if his brother really was trying to kill him.

When the cuffs around his wrists were removed, Dean winced a little at the little pinpricks of feeling returning to his fingers, not to mention just how bruised his wrists were from all the tugging on them. Sam’s soft kiss to the worst of the bruised area on the inside of his wrists both touched him and made him want to bat the younger man upside the back of his head for being such a girl. Sam’s comment about using something “softer” next time had Dean grinning however in spite of himself, even as a flush crawled up his chest and neck to his cheeks.

He had to admit, he had enjoyed that a whole lot more than he had thought he would. Even though he had been the one chained and unable to move, Sam had done everything he’d asked. And even though he couldn’t touch his brother, couldn’t reach out to him, being able to tell Sam what to do and have him do it… fuck, yeah, it had been hot. Maybe he should suggest scarves next time? Or blindfolds? Just how kinky was his little brother he’d always thought was so vanilla?

Dean got up off the bed and stretched his slightly sore muscles, sore from having strained so much against the cuffs probably, and started towards the bathroom. Only to lift an eyebrow as he watched the younger man make a detour to the motel room door rather than the bathroom and he couldn’t stop that laugh that broke free as Sam shoved a chair under the knob.

He couldn’t believe Sam was really that paranoid about being caught. Like their father was anywhere remotely in the area, and if he had been, hearing all the noise they’d made the man would have broken down the door one way or another, chair or no.

Sharing the shower was also a lot more fun than he’d imagined. It was nice for a change just goofing off and horse playing around with Sam like brothers again… ok so with a little more petting than normal brothers should but all that wet skin to touch Dean couldn’t really help himself for long. Sam’s comment about getting lock jaw had Dean laughing and grinning from ear to ear. However he did as he was told and let Sam take his time cleaning the sweat and come off his skin, Dean of course making it as difficult as possible so it took twice as long. Not that he minded in the least with all the kisses he stole from his brother throughout. Dean was rather disappointed when the water started to cool and they had to get out or risk it turning icy on them which definitely wasn’t sexy in any way or form.

Dean dried off himself in between groping his brother, then used his wet towel to smack the younger man’s ass on his way out to the bedroom. He went over to his duffel and pulled out some clothes, which he wouldn’t have bothered if they were staying here but he remembered Sam mentioning going out for some pool and beer, and Dean had to admit he was getting a little antsy.

“So, ready to go take the locals for everything they’re worth, Sammy?” Dean asked with his best shit eating grin as he grabbed the keys to the Impala. 

* * *

Sam laughed at the burn of the towel smacking his ass. He dressed quickly, as opposed to Dean who took his time and was the exhibitionist in the family, and then half sat on the table, relaxed. What a contrast to just this morning, when it felt like he was developing an ulcer because they were on the outs.

When Dean was ready and smiling at him like that as he suggested they go, he felt something tug on his heart. This was how they should always be... they needed to get off the damned rollercoaster they were on, and just... just rest here... in this perfect moment.

A more impatient look from his brother had him quickly nodding in agreement. Grabbing his jacket, he clapped Dean on the back. “Almost everything... we don’t want to get them mad enough to want it back,” he said with a chuckle, opening the door. Yeah, old habits died hard, and he was still the voice of reason.

A short time later, they were at a pool hall, drinking beers at the bar but conserving most of the remainder of their money to wager. Sam watched as Dean worked the crowd like a pro, making comments about the skill or lack thereof of other players, just waiting for a nibble... by nights end, Sam was sure someone would challenge them.

Sam also noticed a blonde watching Dean and smiling at him, her long hair covering one eye. His fingers closed more tightly around his bottle, even as he told himself to be prepared for the flirting. He’d seen this a thousand times before, and he would probably see it again. Just because Dean had a thing for him now didn’t mean his old habits died, or that Sam had any right to demand that, not when he had his own complications of their relationship.

He forced his mind away and thought back to the time he and Dean had gotten shit faced at the bar in the last town. His first hints that his brother might have unbrotherly interests in him, and his own reaction. His cheeks burning, he realized Dean’s gaze was on him, as if he expected a response. He cleared his throat. “Just thinking...bout the first time we...” he just nodded his head. “At that tree on the way to the motel. You don’t remember, hell you were too drunk to know.” And after that, on the bed, when Dean had grabbed him and would not let him go until he gave him a hand job.

The thoughts tumbling through his mind were making him hard, and just when the hell had he turned into Dean? Tugging on his collar, Sam pulled his gaze away and tried to once again look for marks.

* * *

Dean sat on the edge of the stool, his back against the bar and his elbow resting on it close to his brother, in his other hand his second beer that he was nursing slowly. Though his posture was relaxed he surveyed the assembled crowd in the bar/pool hall with the eyes of a predator. Just the way their father had taught him, picking out in his mind who were most likely the easiest targets. Who was likely to put down the most cash on a single game. Who was most likely to realize they were being hustled.

He watched the games already going on. Pretending to be a lot more drunk than he was, talking to Sam, talking shit about some of the other players he’d checked off as good marks, and “drunkenly” talking loudly enough to be heard a few tables down even with all the noise in the bar that time of night.

Dean had to admit, he’d always enjoyed doing this, and he missed it, among other things, when Sam went off to college. Working with Sam like this, oh Dean did fine on his own, but working with Sam they always raked in a lot more cash together than apart. Then again, they’d always done better at everything together than apart.

Though Dean kept his attention focused on the crowd and their potential marks, his attention never wavered very far from Sam, and knew the instant Sam’s eyes were on him. Could practically feel the younger man’s stare and when he turned to look at his brother the younger man’s sudden blush had him grinning like a fool. A warm laugh escaping him as Sam went on to explain, and Dean let his arm drop away from the bar, his hand coming to rest on the inside of his brother’s thigh very intimately.

“You’ll have to refresh my memory later.” Dean practically purred in his brother’s ear.

* * *

“Dean!” A warm breath rushed out of Sam at the unexpected touch. Then his brother’s mouth was brushing over his sensitive ear, making him all sorts of aware of dean. Giving a half laugh and smile, Sam pulled away only slightly and shook his head. “Don’t you think we exceeded our quota for the day?” Practically rolling his eyes in response to Dean’s expression that said quite the contrary, Sam lifted his bottle and took a long, cooling drink.

Soon, they both fell back into pattern, saying one thing but signaling each other with their bodies as to what they actually meant and who they would take to the cleaners. Sam had always felt guilty about doing this, and even guiltier about the rush of adrenaline that accompanied these games. That was why he always tried to pick the biggest asshole to hustle, and he’d sometimes let the poor dumb ones slip away. He had a feeling Dean knew, and when they were younger, he’d let him get away with it if they weren’t too hard up for cash.

He knew they’d attracted the attention of a couple of players who kept looking their way. It wouldn’t be too long before they got tapped on the shoulder, with those guys offering to shut them up by winning all their money. Sam pointed his bottle at that table and leaned in to tell Dean something when the blonde he’d spotted earlier made her move.

“Hey, you boys from out of town,” the blond woman purred, stepping practically between them and putting her hand on both their backs. “I haven’t seen you around before, and believe me, if I had, I’d remember,” she said, this time leaning into Dean and practically purring in his ear, the same way Dean had done to Sam, earlier.

Sam froze. He knew the ‘boys’ bit was an act, she was only really interested in his brother, just like most of the rest of the female population. That usually had him amused, or irritated by his brother’s antics, but now? He was just irritated with her. Annoyed. No worse, he wanted to shove her away.

Hating these strange feelings coursing through him, he ran his hand over his face then turned in his seat and trying his damnedest not to look at where her hands were on his brother, and what kind of smile Dean was about to give her.

* * *

Dean didn’t bother to hide his grin at his brother’s reaction, and would have loved to leave his hand exactly where it was, but they _were_ here for a reason, to work, and that would be a little difficult if they both had stiffies. Plus they didn’t really want to scare away the natives, so Dean let his hand drop away from his brother’s thigh and went back to watching the crowd. Not before waggling his eyebrows playfully at the younger man, and laughing as his brother rolled his eyes. Yeah, even though they’d wore each other out pretty damn well not a couple of hours ago he wouldn’t mind another round once they got back to the motel room.

When a blonde chick suddenly situated herself between him and his brother, Dean wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by the fact that he hadn’t seen it coming, usually he was much more aware of the female population in a bar, or the fact that that the only thing he felt at her less that subtle flirting was annoyance. Yeah, they were working right now, but that had never really stopped Dean before.

His brain remembered all the things it _should_ be doing. Like giving the woman an easy relaxed smile, showing he was interested. Changing the pitch of his voice to something that would melt butter, and then some. Maybe a light touch over a bare shoulder, or hip to get her skin tingling, then pouring on the charm and letting the heat shine through his eyes until the girl was ready to drag him out back, or to his car, or a room, or hell even do him right where he stood.

None of that happened though. Just like the woman that had hit on him so aggressively back in the bar of the other town, Dean felt absolutely no interest. In fact, he was more than a little annoyed that the girl was taking his attention away from his brother right now. His lips remained flat, his eyes just short of arctic, and his voice was anything but inviting as he replied, “Just passing through.”

* * *

Sam tensed just a little more as she kept trying to engage Dean in conversation. She was a pro at it too, she was so good at it that if she’d been talking to him, Sam would have felt obligated to make small talk even though he wasn’t interested.

He stole a glance at his brother, frowning in puzzlement as Dean didn’t bite at any of her flirtatious openings. She was a looker too, stacked the way Dean liked. But no matter what she said or did, he seemed to put her off until she left in a huff. The instant she moved, Sam’s eyes locked with Dean’s, a silent question reflected in their depths.

The moment was broken when one of the guy’s who had a pool table came up to them and asked if they were gonna put their money where their mouths were. Sam started to apologize for Dean, saying his brother hadn’t meant anything and that they didn’t really have a whole lot of money to waste, but the guy kept at them. Taunting them.

Shrugging, Sam got off the stool and pulled out his wallet to count out bills. “How much you got, Dean?” he asked, as they followed the dude.

* * *

Dean didn’t relax again until the pesky broad left, the annoyance bleeding off him since the second she’d walked over and began all but molesting him beginning to fade. It was a good thing she’d decided to give up when she had, because his annoyance had been quickly turning to real anger, and he had been about to start snarling at her if she didn’t take the hint.

He looked over at Sam, and raised an eyebrow at his brother’s questioning look. Before more than a look could pass between them however the guys they’d been working all night finally made their move. Dean smirked, egging them on with carefully chosen prods that wouldn’t scare their prey away while Sam expertly played the “sensible” one trying to talk them all out of it, of course finally giving in, though “reluctantly”.

Dean switched from ordering beers to shots, though he made sure to pace himself but acted like he was getting a whole hell of a lot more drunk than he really was. He expertly lost the first round by a mile, and as the pricks gloated and patted themselves on the back he insisted for a rematch to try to win his money back. Sam of course trying to talk him out of it, he’d had enough to drink, but the second game eventually started.

The next game Dean won, though he made sure only by the barest margin. He of course made sure to thoroughly make an ass of himself gloating and of course the other guys insisted on a rematch like he had, certain they’d win their money back. So it went on, and by the end of the fourth game he and Sam were a good five hundred bucks richer.

Of course also by that time Dean’s tipsiness wasn’t all an act, and he tossed the Impala’s keys to his brother as soon as they stepped outside into the fresh air. 

* * *

Sam was laughing, and telling Dean he hadn't realized how much he'd missed this, even if at the same time he hated taking someone else's money, when the bar tender called to him. He wouldn't have noticed except for all the other shouts of 'hey you.' "Be right there," he told Dean, and walked back into the bar.

"This yours?"

He looked at the brown wallet, raised his brows and shook his head. "Nah, not mine."

"Sorry man, I found it where you were sitting."

"No problem," turning to leave again, Sam came face to face with two burly men. Both were wearing plaid overshirts and thick jackets. Thick enough to hide weapons. He didn't know them, but knew the type very well. "Sorry," he started to walk around them.

"You're John's boy."

_Shit._ Sam smiled and nodded. If he asked them directly how they knew, it could get him answers he didn't want to know. "Who shall I say said hello?"

"You're the younger one. Where's your brother?"

Sam raised a hand, pointing his index finger up in the air. "Hold on, what's this about?"

"Answer the question boy," the bigger guy demanded, putting his arm across Sam's shoulder in a friendly gesture, but with his hand gripping Sam's neck in a distinctly unfriendly threat.

"Don't fuck with me," he answered, easily breaking the guy's grip. No son of John Winchester would take that, and they both knew it. They wanted to know how honest his reactions were, he knew what they were doing. "Guess you're not a friend of dad's after all."

"Of sorts. You know us, more about alliances than friends." The second man answered. "Where is he?"

"Off on a hunt."

"Your brother, the older one, where is he?"

The bigger one was in Sam's face again, and he couldn't stand the stench of sweat and sour beer coming from him. Fuck, he had to end this before Dean came back inside, or it was just gonna get bigger. "He's with dad, they're _away on business_ , I just told you. Now, you got a message for either of them, spit it out... or I'm outta here."

"Why didn't they take you with them? Why aren't you _on business_?" the man's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Because I gotta get back to school, alright? I helped 'em out with something—"

"And they just left you stranded," the big one squinted at him. "At least come up with better lies, boy."

"They were in a rush and my girlfriend is picking me up, not that it's any of your fucking business." A group of people walked in, and Sam didn't dare to look outside for Dean. "I don't know what this is about, but I'm telling you, I'm not even in _the business_ anymore. If you need something from dad... you know the channels. I'd have helped, if you'd been... more polite." Giving them the prissy look he knew Dean hated, he started to walk away again.

* * *

Dean stood next to the Impala, leaning back against the door on the passenger side of the car, waiting for Sam to get his butt out here. If he’d had the keys Dean would have already been in the car, but since he’d given them to his brother he was left standing outside instead. He didn’t really mind, not like it wasn’t a nice night, and he knew Sam wouldn’t be long, but Dean was impatient to get back to the motel with Sam. To hopefully further exceed their quota for the night…

Sam hadn’t been gone for very long. Not even five minutes really, but all of a sudden Dean began getting a bad feeling. Maybe it was more a reminder of what had happened the last time they’d been separated at a bar than anything else, but Dean started to head back towards the bar anyway. That strange feeling of anxiousness building inside of him with every step he took towards the bar.

Before Dean reached it however, he’d been so intent on getting inside he wasn’t paying enough attention to the other customers going in and coming out of the bar. It didn’t help that the guy who grabbed him had also been up wind, making it impossible for Dean to smell him coming.

Dean immediately began to struggle, almost shouting a warning that Sam might be able to hear from inside the bar, but the man quickly covered his mouth with his hand. Dean should have been able to break the man’s hold easily but he felt the edge of a sharp edge of a knife underneath his throat before he had the chance, and froze. The man taking the opportunity to drag him back into the alley to the side of the bar.

He knew how to deal with the situation. His dad had taught him well. Dean tensed, ready to back head butt the guy and grab the knife hand, and hopefully disarm his attacker before he could react, again before he could however Dean got another surprise.

“Quit your god damned struggling, boy.” A voice Dean recognized well hissed in his ear and the young man froze again, though instinctively obeying or just in shock, he wasn’t sure which.

“Bobby?” Dean asked, unsure if his ears were playing tricks on him, when the hand covering his mouth was removed. Bobby made a sharp hushing sound in his ear.

“Shut up, they’re coming.”

Dean almost asked _who_ was coming, but he wisely remained silent and he found out a second later. Two men walked out of the bar. Most wouldn’t have thought them anything more than a couple of burly truckers or rednecks or something, but Dean knew better. He’d been around hunters all his life. He could pick them out of a crowd. They’d come out of the bar… Sam was in the bar…

Dean took a step as though to leave the alley and go inside, exactly what he was planning actually, but again Bobby stopped him. Dean was beginning to get angry at the older man’s manhandling at that point, his brother was in there, damn it! Maybe in trouble…

“Sam…” Dean started, but Bobby cut him off with a hissing whisper.

“Sam’s smart. If he kept his head they’ll leave him alone. It’s you they’re after, idgit.”

* * *

Sam had to fight every instinct in his body to chase out after them and make sure they didn’t spot Dean. But no, that would just get them suspicious. He’d just have to trust that the moment they went out there, Dean would recognize them for who they were and keep a low profile.

He counted the seconds, to make sure he was rooted to his place long enough, before pushing the door open and walking out. He didn’t turn his head toward the impala, but his gaze swept the area. No Dean. That could be good, or bad.

Then he heard voices, and saw it was the hunters making their way to a truck. Pulling into the shadows, he waited for their car to start, and for the truck to pull out of the dusty lot, before walking towards the car. “Dean? Where are you?” Seeing as his brother had sharp hearing now, he didn’t shout. “Dean!”

Only the fact that he'd seen the hunters leaving empty handed had him keeping his cool. His brother had figured them out, and was hiding. He'd come out any moment, and they could get their asses back to the motel.

* * *

Dean watched, tense as hell, as the hunters got into their truck and left. He forced himself to wait, as Bobby wanted him to, and finally his brother emerged from the bar as well. Sam looked fine, just like Bobby said he would be, though he looked worried as hell too. Looking around for him. Again Dean made to step out from the shadows of the alley, almost calling to Sam, but once more Bobby stopped him.

“Give it a second.” The older hunter insisted and as much as he hated it, Dean knew Bobby was right. The hunters might still be around, watching Sam now, and waiting…

When nothing happened, finally he and Bobby both stepped around the side of the building, walking towards Sam.

“Sam.” Dean called out softly to his brother so not to startle him. 

* * *

Hearing his name, Sam turned, recognizing his brother’s voice and knowing that Dean must be aware of the hunters or there was no way he’d be whispering like that when he was feeling high about winning and was a bit drunk.

“Bobby?!” The loud whisper broke out of Sam who immediately walked to him but awkwardly stood in front of him for a moment. He hadn’t seen Bobby in so long. Deciding it was silly to let his worries about what the older hunter thought of him for having quit the business stop him, he suddenly moved in and gave him a hug, slapping his back. “Good to see you. I…”

He’d been about to say ‘missed’ him, but he knew that Bobby wouldn’t mince words and would tell him if he’d wanted to, he could have called or visited. He’d probably knock him upside his head too, he was like dad in a lot of ways.

Pulling back, he looked between the both of them. “Any idea what those boys wanted?” Yeah, he knew damned well. He also trusted Bobby with his life, and even with Dean’s life. But this was Dean’s secret, and he got to say what and how much of it would be shared with Bobby. Course it was possible dad had told Bobby already, and had sent him to help protect Dean.

* * *

Dean didn’t fail to notice the hesitation in Sam before he hugged the older hunter. Either Bobby didn’t notice it either or he ignored it, giving the younger man a warm squeeze and a pat on the back before pulling away. Dean didn’t offer a similar greeting to Bobby since technically they’d already had it, more or less. Besides, considering everything, the hunters and Bobby showing up out of the blue, this wasn’t a social call in the least.

“Good to see you boy’s too. Too bad it couldn’t be under different circumstances.” Bobby replied, pretty much confirming Dean’s suspicions. The older hunter took off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his thinning hair before he replaced it. A gesture Dean had long associated with the older man about to say something he knew they weren’t going to like.

“I heard it through the grapevine. Some hunter, Ian Jacobs, he was found torn to hell and barely alive up in the woods in Washington. Before another hunter put a silver bullet into his brain he was babbling on about werewolves and dropped your name. I tried calling your daddy, but he ain’t answering, so I tracked you boys down myself. Obviously those boys did the same, and more are sure to come. We’ve got to get the hell out of dodge, pronto.” Bobby explained before turning to Dean.

Dean, who felt his agitation growing by the second as Bobby told them the news, just stood there. Why couldn’t anything fucking go right? This was about the worst fucking thing that could have gone down. So now they didn’t just have werewolves to worry about, they had to try to dodge other hunters too. Other hunters who were as good or better or more obsessed about killing evil things as their own father, and were now gunning for _him_ and anything that might stand between them. That meant Sam… and why wouldn’t their Dad answer his phone if he knew it was Bobby calling?

Bobby didn’t ask the question that was obviously burning in the older hunter’s brain. If it was true, was he infected? Apparently he didn’t need to by the grim set of the older hunter’s lips. Bobby turned his attention back to Sam.

“If you boys have anything you need to pick up from your motel room, you best do it now. That’s the first place they’re going to look.” 

* * *

  
_Ian Jacobs. A hunter put a silver bullet in his brain._

The words reverberated in Sam's head, as he imagined a bunch of hardened hunters doing just that. Only it wasn't Ian Jacobs he was seeing in his mind, it was Dean. Tension flowed through every part o f his body as Bobby explained a little about tracking them. And if Bobby had tracked them without talking to dad, it meant others could. Hell, those two yahoos had come pretty damned close.

"I don't know why dad didn't call you back. He's been in contact," Sam said, biting his lower lip as he worried over the elder Winchester's safety. He didn't say he hoped nothing happened to him, it was a given that all of them would be thinking the same way.

As Bobby advised them to grab their things, Sam's face jerked up. He nodded. "Yeah. Dean, you go with Bobby. Those guys, or others, they could be watching the motel. I don't want them finding you." Seeing the look in Dean's eyes, he cocked his head to the side and gave him and intense look of his own. "I mean it. You're the one they want, not me. It doesn't make sense for you to walk in a trap. Go with Bobby."

Mind made up, Sam started backing away from them. "Once I'm on the road, I'll call you and we can meet up. It might take me… a little time." He gave Dean a pointed look. Hopefully his brother would remember all the hardware he'd had to install on the wall for no reason.

* * *

Dean could see the worry in his brother’s face regarding their father and he knew it matched his own. He was already nodding when Bobby suggested they get their stuff from the motel, but when Sam suggested that he go with the older hunter while Sam went back _alone_ , Dean’s eyes narrowed and he looked at the younger man as though he was out of his fucking mind.

Sam didn’t even let him speak, however, and unfortunately, annoyingly, Sam had a point. The hunters had let Sam go once already, it wasn’t likely they would give him any trouble… unless they simply hadn’t wanted to give Sam trouble when he was in a crowded bar. If they decided to be less than friendly with the younger man if they caught Sam alone, that would be an entirely different story. Hell, they could even grab Sam and use him as some kind of ransom or bait, if they thought it might lure Dean out of hiding, and it would work.

Dean was already opening his mouth, about to protest, when again he was cut off. By Bobby this time, and Dean couldn’t stop the soft growl of frustration from escaping his lips and he turned his glare on Bobby next.

“Don’t give me that look, boy. You know Sam’s right. Let’s go before more of those crazy ass shoot first as questions later hunters show up.” The older hunter said, and started walking towards his car, obviously expecting Dean just to follow him. Dean turned back to his brother. Damn it. He didn’t like this one bit… but seeing the look on Sam’s face he realized he also didn’t want to have to explain to Bobby all about the chains and handcuffs, why the bed was all fucked up, and why the motel room probably still smelled like a brothel…

“Call us when you get there, and leave the phone on speaker until you leave. We’ll stay close by, if anything happens…” Dean finally conceded, he’d let Sam go alone, but he wouldn’t let his brother go completely without any back up. Sam couldn’t ask him to do that, and if his brother argued about it he didn’t care what Sam or Bobby said he would go with Sam even if the place _was_ surrounded with trigger happy hunters. 

* * *

"Bobby's right—" Sam started, prepared to argue Dean to death over this, when he realized that Dean had agreed. Giving an owl like blink, he said, "great." Then there were all of Dean's stipulations and he knew from Dean's grim expression that any hint that his instructions wouldn't be followed to the letter would mean the deal was off. "Okay Dean."

Leaning in, Sam gave Dean a hug, skimming his mouth over his brother's throat since Bobby had his back to them. "I'll be fine. Go, be safe," he said, squeezing him tight one more time before releasing him just as Bobby turned impatiently to look back. "Dude... I am not some helpless _chick_ " he said, putting it in terms Dean would understand.

If the heated look in his brother's eyes was anything to go by, Dean wasn't convinced and Sam had to get out of there before Dean changed his mind. Turning on his heels, he strode away as quickly as he could and never turned back once he reached the Impala.

Twenty five minutes later, he'd taken all the hardware off the wall, fixed the bed so that the pillows covered the holes he'd drilled, and taken Dean's bags and the shackling equipment to the car. He returned for one last bag, his own, when two guys, the same to guys rushed their way into the room.

"Where is he?"

"Who? Dean, I fucking told you... what the hell." Sam's hand slid to his belt and a moment later, he'd whipped out his gun.

Unfortunately, so did the other men. Sam trained his gun on the one he thought could be the leader of the two, and cocked it. "We really want bloodshed? He's not here, you can see that. It's just me."

"Yeah well, we went back to the bar and they said you were working the pool tables with a partner. Where the fuck is he?"

"Partner? It was just some asshole that paired up with me, then he stole our winnings. Shit, it's a good thing Dean wasn't around or he'd have my head. Now open the door, and let me get outta here."

"Where you going this time of the night?"

Shit. Phone was on speaker. "I told you I was getting picked up. I'm gonna stand outside and wait for my ride."

"She a blonde? Redhead?"

Fuming, Sam started to walk past one of them, gun still trained on him. He reached the door, opened it behind his back, the stalked out. Shit... now he had to wait them out, dammit. "I'm gonna sit tight at the diner, until they leave," he said, giving the Impala wide birth.

* * *

Bobby had driven them to the parking lot of a small mini mall about a half mile away from the motel. Of course Dean had wanted to park closer, across the street if Bobby would have let him, but the older hunter was having none of it. Insisting that this was plenty close enough, the whole point of this after all was so Dean _wouldn’t_ be spotted by the other hunters, and they could get to Sam in under five minutes if there was any kind of trouble.

Dean sat stewing worriedly in the passenger seat trying not to think of every little thing that could possibly happen to his brother in under five minutes before they could get to him… No, his brother wasn’t some kind of helpless chick. But neither was he, damn it. He didn’t like the idea one damned bit of running off to be “safe” while his brother was in the line of fire.

He didn’t relax, and thankfully Bobby was wise enough not to say anything more about it, until they got the phone call from Sam once he reached the motel room. The entire time Dean strained to hear every little sound over the speakerphone. Listening for any clue that would tell them that there was trouble and his brother needed help. He was just beginning to think that maybe Bobby had been right, that the hunters wouldn’t bother Sam again, and he’d been worried for nothing when they both heard the unfamiliar voices over the line.

“Sa…”

Bobby quickly clamped a hand over Dean’s mouth before the younger man could say anything that the hunters might be able to hear over Sam’s phone. Dean glared angrily at the older man and pulled the hand away but at least when he spoke it was almost a whisper.

“What the fuck?! Bobby. Start the car! We have to help Sam!” Dean’s eyes reflected both fear and anger, the latter the older hunter wasn’t fazed by and he kept his own voice soft and even because of the former.

“Charge in, guns blazing? Ever think that’s maybe what they want, boy?” Bobby asked, and ok maybe the older man had a point, but that didn’t mean Dean had to like or agree with it.

“They could kill him!”

“Better they kill you instead? They aren’t going to hurt Sam. Sam’s a hunter for one, or was. He’s also John’s boy for two.”

“Yeah? Well so am I, Bobby…” Dean “reminded” the older man, and those fuckers still wanted to kill him.

“Sam ain’t a werewolf.” Bobby hissed low between his teeth, looking like the words pained him and Dean swallowed hard and looked away. Bobby sighed heavily feeling tears stinging at the back of his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. All this time he’d tried to deny it, hoping it was some kind of mistake, but now he knew.

Apparently the standoff at the motel had ended. They heard Sam’s voice over the phone, obviously directed at them, and both men gave a small sigh of relief. Neither Dean nor Bobby spoke again, waiting for Sam to give the all clear that the hunters had given up trying to track Dean down through Sam. For now. 

* * *

Sam waited a long time before going back to the lot, putting his stuff in the car and heading out. He drove for miles, and pulled off the road, waiting to see if he had any tails. He wasn’t gonna chance letting any hunters get to his brother, not if he had to stay here all night or even if he had to drive all the way to fucking Stanford to throw them off Dean’s tracks. Sure, that would send his brother off the rails, even if it was in his best interest. Letting out his breath, Sam waited. Seeing nothing suspicious, he eventually got back on the road and gave Bobby and Dean his location and the all clear.

A few words were exchanged and he sensed some sort of tension from the other men. He wanted to ask Dean what was the matter, but he was on speaker and there wasn’t much chance for privacy. “Everything alright? You guys haven’t seen any hunters, have you?” He sure hoped the area wasn’t already crawling with them cause leaving without a trail would be a problem.

“Dean, I was thinking…” Bringing it up made him worry his brother would go ballistic. “Maybe just to be sure, I should stay at a different motel or something for the rest of the night. I mean I don’t think I’m being followed, but do we really want to take that chance?” He threw it out there, and if Bobby agreed, he might be able to talk some sense into Dean, like he had earlier in the night. Dean had to know that right now, he was the target, and they had to, at all costs, prevent other hunters from catching his scent.

* * *

No more words were exchanged between him and Bobby and Dean wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. He tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about a lot of things, too bad his brain wasn’t listening to him right now.

He tried not to think about how worried he was about Sam and what they would do if those two hunters didn’t leave the younger man alone, or decided to do something more drastic than just stalking his brother. What if Sam couldn’t wait them out? What if they tried to kidnap Sam, or follow him when Sam tried to leave the diner? What if Bobby was wrong and they tried to shoot Sam simply for not “cooperating” with them… All the horrible what if’s were going to give him a fucking stroke if he wasn’t careful…

He tried not to think about how worried he was about his father as well. Why wouldn’t Dad have answered Bobby’s phone calls? When was the last time he’d talked to John? A couple days ago, before his father had left. Sam had talked to their father since then, hadn’t he? When exactly had Bobby tried contacting their Dad? Before or after that? The older man hadn’t specified. If it was after, then that could mean that their father was in some kind of trouble and they should be trying to get to him to help him rather than messing around with these fucking hunters. If it was before… maybe John hadn’t answered Bobby’s number because he hadn’t been sure how their old friend would react to learning Dean was a werewolf.

After their “talk” earlier Dean wasn’t all that certain either. A part of him kept expecting to see Bobby reaching for his gun loaded with silver bullets. Bobby was a good friend, practically family, but he was a hunter too. Just like the hunters who wanted him dead now. Dean wasn’t sure what he would do if Bobby did try to shoot him. He couldn’t do anything to hurt Bobby, even to save his own life. At the moment he honestly didn’t think he’d do anything to stop the older man from killing him…

Finally, _finally_ , Sam gave the word he was leaving the diner and Bobby finally started the truck and pulled out. Taking a different route than the younger man but heading in the same direction, Sam finally gave the all clear that he wasn’t being followed and Dean allowed himself to finally relax. Well, as much as he could anyway given the situation.

“No, everything’s clear, Sam.” Bobby answered Sam’s question of if they’d run into any hunters. Which kind of bothered Dean to tell you the truth. How the hell had they managed to pick up on _Sam_ , especially when the younger man hadn’t hunted for years. It didn’t make much sense, but considering the fact that if they’d found him first Dean probably already would have had steaming bullet holes in his skull and chest it was probably a good thing.

“No fucking way, Sam.” Dean answered immediately to his brother’s next “suggestion”, before Bobby could say a fucking word. He threw the older man a challenging glare and repeated himself for emphasis. “No fucking way.” Dean wasn’t going to let them tag team him, not on this. He wasn’t going to let his brother out of his sight for a whole damned _night_ , he didn’t care what the risks were, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to use Sam as the “bait” to keep other hunters off his trail.

Bobby gave him a disapproving glare for his language and tone of voice but conceded anyway.

“I’m sure its fine, Sam. Besides, there’s safety in numbers too. If we stay together we can sleep in shifts, keep an eye out.” Bobby said, and Dean relaxed a little more, practically wanting to hug the man. Sam couldn’t really argue with logic like that. 

* * *

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed at the predicted and automatic response from his brother. He hadn’t even thought about it for two seconds. “Dean...” he started, before Bobby cut him off and gave his own ‘reasoned’ opinion. Whereas his brother thought he couldn’t handle anything on his own, Bobby wanted him because he could add value to the group.

He was gonna have to talk to Dean about that some time. Some time sooner, rather than later. Wasn’t the fight they’d had right before dad left enough to get through to him? Mouth pressed into a flat line, he listened as Bobby gave directions to some safe house in the backwoods.

A couple of hours later, he pulled off the road and started to drive down a rocky path. The car lurched into a hole, but he was able to get it out, cursing under his breath and hoping there was no damage to the car. Otherwise, Dean was gonna have his head.

Under the bright moonlight, he saw the cabin and pulled up in front of it. He’d beaten them there. He got out and found the key in the knoll of a tree, just where Bobby said it would be. Gun in hand, he first went inside and made sure the place was ‘unoccupied.’ He didn’t want any surprised, especially when his hands were full.

Walking back out to the car, he grabbed some supplies and their duffel bags, and brought them inside. The place was small, but better than a lot of places they’d stayed before. A few cobwebs here and there were no bother. There was one bedroom downstairs and a smaller one in like a little loft. Sam took his bag up the narrow stairs, one hand flat against the wall to keep his balance, when he heard bobby’s truck pull up.

A minute later, they were walking in. “I left your stuff downstairs. Figured you and Bobby can bunk downstairs cause the upstairs... dude too small for the two of us, I think it was a kid’s room,” Sam called down, wishing he could see his brother’s face from where he stood.

* * *

Dean was more than ready to get out of the car when they finally reached the safe house belonging to a friend of a friend of Bobby’s. He’d always had a pretty relaxed relationship with the older hunter before now. They’d been friends for a long time, Bobby had been friends with their dad even longer, despite the couple of times the older man had threatened to fill John’s ass with buckshot. Now there was an undeniable tension between them that couldn’t be denied. Dean did his best to pretend it wasn’t there, even as he escaped into the cabin ahead of the older hunter and tried to ignore the ever growing sinking pit in his stomach.

Ok, so he was definitely wound up. What little bit of relaxing and good humor he’d managed to find at the bar was pretty much gone by this point. From the hunters showing up, to this new awkwardness with Bobby, to Sam trying to go to another _motel_ to throw the hunters off his tracks. Leaving him… putting himself in danger…

So when he walked in he was rather unprepared and certainly not in the mood for Sam’s suggestion that he “bunk” with Bobby. Away from Sam. That was all he heard. Why the hell did Sam go through such fucking trouble to get him unchained from the bathroom floor in their last motel room if all he wanted was to be _away_ from him now? But then again, considering the last time they’d slept together, how he’d clawed up his brother’s back…

“I’ll take the first watch.” Dean finally forced out. Barely hearing Bobby’s confirmation and something about going to bed because he’d been driving for fourteen hours, and making a supply run in the morning. He didn’t even look in the older man’s direction as Bobby headed off to the downstairs bedroom.

Dean in turn made his way over to some of the supplies and weapons that Sam had brought in, grabbing a couple of guns and a cleaning rag before heading into the living room. Pulling off the white sheet covering the couch he laid it over the coffee table instead and then laid the guns on top of it and began taking them apart for cleaning. Might as well make himself useful…

* * *

Sam put his stuff away, and did a little cleaning. He could hear Dean and Bobby, and Bobby’s quick exit. He leaned over the railing and couldn’t quite make out Dean’s face, but could just see that he was sitting at the table.

“Wonder how those guys found us,” he said, turning to straighten the covers on the top bunk. He put his bag up on the bed and started to head down, his back flat against the wall of the narrow staircase.

When he reached Dean, he looked at him, wondering at his stern expression. Sure cleaning guns was a serious business to Dean, but there was a certain tension in the air. Plus he hadn’t answered his question.

Sam turned to look at Bobby’s closed door, then getting two bottles of water, came to sit in front of Dean. “Want one?” He twisted the cap off his own and took a long drink, his gaze glued to Dean’s face. What the hell? His brother was refusing to look at him. What could have happened between leaving that bar and coming to this place that could have him this pissed?

“Something wrong? Dean?” Sam spread his arms. “What’s going on?”

* * *

Of course Dean had heard the question, the way his hearing had been enhanced by the werewolf bite it would have been nearly impossible for him to not have heard. But he ignored the question anyway, pretending he hadn’t heard. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. How the hell was he supposed to know how those guys had found them?

Maybe some of the hunters Dad had called in up in Washington had put two and two together early and followed them? Bobby had said something about a guy named Jacobs dropping his name that he was a werewolf, he wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it was enough that he was being hunted now by other hunters. He probably would be for the rest of his life, even if Dad did manage to find that miracle werewolf cure he was looking for, who would believe it?

It was looking more and more like life for his father and brother would have been a whole lot safer, easier, if he’d just gone off that bridge or blew a hole in his head when he had the chance…

Dean didn’t look up or answer Sam when his brother sat down in front of him. Then the younger man was asking him what was _wrong_ as though he didn’t have a fucking clue. Dean finally looked up though the frown didn’t leave his face and his eyes narrowed a bit. Staring at Sam as though he were studying the younger man before he turned his attention back to what he was doing, wiping the oiled rag a bit harder over the gun than was necessary.

“Nothing. Go to bed.” He said softly, feeling more tired, hurt, and worn down by… everything… than angry at the moment. 

* * *

Sam almost flinched under Dean’s angry stare. What the hell? As Dean went back to cleaning his gun, Sam puzzled over his brother’s current mood. He’d been fine, just fine at the bar. And even after, when they spoke on the phone... he’d been normal. But right now, Dean Winchester was anything but fine.

He put his hand out over Dean’s, stilling his brother’s and practically forcing him to look at him. “Did Bobby say something?” Maybe the hunter had dwelled on the bite and the possibilities of Dean going werewolf. His brother had been fighting so hard not to think about it, but Bobby was one of the bluntest and most direct people they knew. “Dean?”

He could just tell his brother was well on his way to closing up and shutting down again, and he couldn’t stand that thought. “Hey.” Sam glanced at the door to Bobby’s room, and dared to lean in and kiss Dean on the lips, slowly, putting all of his emotions behind the kiss, his fears for his brother, his need to help... to be there for him.

Pulling back, but not too far, he looked Dean in the eyes. “We’re in this _together_. Don’t shut me out, please.” Now he’d know whether their talk earlier about this had even had any sort of impact, though Sam was starting to wonder whether the increasing fullness of the moon was affecting Dean’s moods.

* * *

Of course he should have realized that Sam didn’t know when to take a fucking hint. Didn’t know when to just drop an issue instead pushing him. Sam was always fucking pushing him. Never letting things just… settle… Poking and prodding him until he finally caved or lashed out and ended up saying or doing something neither of them would like. Sam had been like that when he was a kid, as a teen, and Sam’s time away at Stanford hadn’t changed any of his habits. Dean knew he should be used to it by now, but for some reason he wasn’t.

Dean couldn’t stop himself from tensing when his brother laid his hand over his own. He froze but he didn’t look up. He refused to. Even though he couldn’t stop the minute flinch he made when Sam asked him if Bobby had “said” something to him.

Yes, Bobby had, but of course the older hunter hadn’t said anything that Dean didn’t already _know_. He knew he was a werewolf. He knew he was a freak. He knew he was a monster. He knew very well what he was, he felt the changes in himself every damned day. He knew what a danger he was to his family, to everyone around him. He knew perfectly well why the other hunters wouldn’t hesitate in putting him down… It was just…

It didn’t matter what Bobby had said. Yeah, it upset him, but then the truth was upsetting. He was a werewolf, plain and simple. Bobby had never been one to sugar coat things, why should he start now just because Dean was a little “sensitive” about hearing the “W” word.

He realized that Sam had been waiting for an answer for him for a while and Dean had merely been staring at their hands when his brother pulled him out of his thoughts with a soft press of his lips. It almost startled him a little and he almost pulled back, but he didn’t. Even as upset as he was with Sam his brother’s kiss was… calming… and he felt himself relaxing a little almost against his will.

Though when Sam pulled away, looking into his eyes and talking about how they were in this “together” Dean pressed his lips together tightly as though to stop the flow of angry accusing words that tried to break free. Don’t shut him out… god… how many times had Sam asked him that lately? Every time Dean broke. Every time he let the walls he was trying to build around himself to protect himself slip down, letting Sam inside past them. It seemed like every time he did Sam might make it “better” for a while but then he’d only hurt more later. He just… he was so damned tired of hurting all the time, he wanted the hurting to stop…

Dean closed his eyes and hung his head.

“It’s not about Bobby. I’m just… tired… I thought those hunters were going to hurt you, or kill you, to get to me and I couldn’t do anything. Then you wanted to go to a different motel. Now you don’t want to sleep with me, not that I blame you, but…” Dean shook his head. “I’ll deal with it…”

* * *

It took Sam a moment to comprehend what Dean was getting at. He might have knocked him upside his head for being an idiot, if his brother’s words spoken on the day their father left hadn’t reverberated in his head. _I need you._ It made his heart clench.

Sam took a deep breath and licked his lips, staring at stubbornly shut eyes. “Dean, they didn’t hurt me... they didn’t touch me. I just... the hotel thing, you _know_ I just want to protect you. Same as you want to protect me. It’s hardwired into both of us. Tell me you wouldn’t suggest the same thing if our situation was reversed? Or that the thought wouldn’t cross your mind. I just... I didn’t want to lead them to you.”

Sam only just stopped himself from adding that one night at a different motel wasn’t a huge deal. It was for Dean, and he was just beginning to understand how big a deal it was.

Glancing nervously at the door to Bobby’s room, and a little assured by the sounds of snoring, he reached out and put his palm against Dean’s cheek, willing him to open his eyes. “You _really_ think I meant to stick you in a room with Bobby? Come on Dean, you _know_ I was joking. Meant for it to be funny. I’m going to sleep with you... well, at least in the same room. I have the top bunk, and there is no way both of us will fit.. unless one is on top.” There was a smile in his voice as he said the latter and imagined just that. 

* * *

Dean pressed his lips together when predictably Sam began to _argue_ with him. That the hunters hadn’t hurt him, they hadn’t touched him, they hadn’t taken Sam away from him… of course they hadn’t but they _could_ have. They could have _killed_ Sam and there wouldn’t have been anything Dean could do to stop it.

Didn’t Sam understand that? Why couldn’t Sam understand that? The fact that his worst fear hadn’t come true didn’t erase the fear, because it could have happened so damned easily. Because it might happen still… because Sam was trying to protect _him_. Yes, he understood Sam’s need to try to protect him, but he didn’t think Sam had ever, or would ever, understand Dean’s need to protect the younger man. Especially now. Even more so than when Sam had been a child and Dean had merely been his older brother looking out for little Sammy.

The thought of anything happening to Sam. Sam being hurt or killed. Sam leaving him… It terrified him. Utterly and completely terrified him. The only thing that he was more afraid of was himself somehow harming the younger man. He just couldn’t explain that to Sam. Not in any way that his brother could possibly understand. Dean was coming to realize that. In some ways Sam could never understand him because Sam wasn’t like him.

_Sam isn’t a werewolf._ Bobby’s words echoed back to him.

When his brother touched his face, Dean almost reluctantly looked up at Sam again. He didn’t want to argue with Sam again. He could practically hear the thoughts that must be running through Sam’s head right now. He knew his brother thought he was overreacting. That he was being unreasonable, melodramatic, or whatever. He knew Sam didn’t understand and he just didn’t have the energy to try to make Sam understand. He never could and he was too tired, much too tired, worn out, and beaten down by everything to even try.

Yes, he had really thought Sam was going to make him stay down here with Bobby, even if not in the same room, just away from him. No, he hadn’t known Sam was joking. Nothing inside of him had even considered that option. Even Sam’s attempt to lighten the mood now barely affected him. Yes, he was grateful that Sam hadn’t meant it, that his brother still wanted him near, and the sheer amount of relief he felt made it impossible to even crack a smile.

Instead he found himself carelessly dropping the gun and rag down on the table, reaching up to frame Sam’s face in his hands and pull the younger man to him in a deep kiss. Pouring all his love and need for his brother into that contact that was at this moment more vital than breathing. 

* * *

There was so damned much he could no longer read about his brother just from his body language, and that bothered Sam a lot. Dean had always bottled up too many of his emotions, but Sam could usually see through the front he put up... but not since his brother had been bitten, or maybe it was the fact they’d been apart a few years. Sam wasn’t sure of the cause, but he did feel a big gaping hole in his heart... missing that connection.

But now, in this kiss... it was as if the connection was back, in a different form. The way Dean held him, hands caressing his face, the way he held tight, the way he didn’t low any space between them told a long and complicated story of a love with so many layers, no one but them could ever understand it. As Sam kissed him back, answering every movement of Dean’s tongue, with his own, tangling... letting him make love to him, he listened with his body and with his heart.

In many ways, he’d always been the focus of Dean’s life. Dean had been his too, but not in quite the same way. Dean had been the one to save him, to take care of him, to play mother, father and brother to him. And now... there was a new bond between them. One that anyone else would see as fucked up and dirty and deviant. But as they kissed, Sam knew... he just knew that was all wrong. Dean’s kisses tasted like pure love. Permanent. No holds barred. Possessive, but caring. Needy but giving. And Sam wanted it. He wanted it as badly as his brother. Wanted it bad enough to change his life... bad enough to change his college plans and relationship ... whatever had to happen, he wouldn’t... couldn’t let this thing they had slip through his fingers.

He pressed forward, kissing Dean hard one last time, and pulling back. His breaths were audibly labored, his chest rose and fell with the effort of breathing. “Dean.” He closed his eyes for a moment and licked his lips, tasting Dean... only Dean. His eyes fluttered open and locked with his brother’s intense greens. “I don’t need anymore time to think about this. I know.” He paused, took a breath and nodded. “I love you, and it’s not gonna go away... not ever.”

* * *

As Sam kissed him back with just as much need, just as much possessiveness, just as much passion Dean felt the fear in his heart finally begin to lessen a little. The tight knot of it in his stomach unwinding as their tongues dueled and caressed, as their lips crushed together almost bruising, as soft moans of pleasure and want were shared between them. His hands slid back into Sam’s hair, petting, and then moved downwards over the younger man’s neck and back. Dean touched Sam’s back carefully through his brother’s shirt, remembering how he had injured Sam, unsure if it was healed enough to not cause pain but unwilling to take that chance.

When Sam finally began to draw back Dean let him go but only so far. Their hot panting breaths shared between them, even their heartbeats seeming to race in tandem. In Dean’s mind nothing could be more perfect. He’d never needed anything more in his life than this man he held in his arms right now. Loving him. Protecting him. Just as he had when his father had placed his baby brother into his arms, entrusting him to Dean to keep him safe. His brother…

Dean opened his eyes when Sam spoke his name. Watching Sam’s tongue dart out and swipe across his lips with a fascination that bordered on obsessive. It was all he could do not to close the slight distance between them, chasing Sam’s tongue with his own, kissing his brother again and again until both of their lips were swollen and bruised.

At Sam’s words however Dean forgot hot to breathe for several heartbeats. He remembered asking Sam no more than a few days ago if his brother had a choice if he would wish Dean’s feelings were only because of the werewolf venom. If Sam wished that it would go away if he were cured. It seemed like a lifetime ago rather than a few days. Sam had not been able to answer him then. Dean honestly hadn’t been expecting his brother to ever answer him…

Now a smile split his face so wide his cheeks actually ached and to keep himself from practically whooping with joy and waking up Bobby in just the next room he pulled Sam back to him and kissed him again, and again, and again. “I love you, Sammy. Love you. Need you. Love you.” Dean repeated over and over when he allowed them both to finally take a much needed breath. 

* * *

When Dean smiled – not one of his silly or put-on or mocking grins – when he _really_ smiled like he meant it, it felt just the sun breaking through the clouds. And it was infectious as hell, cause Sam was smiling back even as Dean’s mouth met his... over and over.

Sam had to clamp down on his need to laugh out loud. Arms tightly wound around his brother’s shoulder and waist, he kissed him back, his brother’s vows washing over him, ingraining themselves in his memory, it was a moment in time that no one could ever take from him, and it would top his short list of ‘supremely happy moments’.

When Dean broke the kiss, he collapsed forward, his face buried in Dean’s neck. “Me too. What you said, me too Dean.” He swallowed and tried to catch his breath, still hanging onto his brother. “If _he_ walked out now, it would be bad. But you know what? I don’t care.”

That was when he heard a sound and jerked back, eyes wide. “Okay... maybe I was exaggerating.” His heart stopped thudding as fast when Bobby’s snores resumed. Blowing out a breath, he took Dean’s hand and kissed his palm. “Don’t you dare call me a girl,” he quirked a brow, replaced his mouth with his hand, threading his fingers through Dean’s. 

* * *

Dean sighed softly, leaning back against the couch with Sam practically cradled in his arms, probably still wearing the stupidest happy grin on his face but to be honest he didn’t give a damned. All he cared about was Sam’s solid weight pressed against him, his brother’s warm breath against his neck, and the younger man basically saying “ditto” to everything he’d said.

When Sam said he didn’t even care if Bobby woke up and found him this way, Dean couldn’t help but grinning more, and then outright laughing when his brother practically panicked when they heard a noise from the older hunter’s room. Dean clamped one hand over his mouth to stifle his snickers, however his urge to laugh and tease his jumpy little brother (like he had any right to talk) was erased when Sam took his hand. Kissing and nuzzling into his palm.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Samantha.” Dean replied, grinning cheekily, but before his brother could get all bitchy he pulled Sam into a breath stealing kiss. He didn’t let go of Sam’s hand for a long time.


	12. Chapter 12

Sam couldn’t believe they’d made out right outside Bobby’s door. He just... he didn’t know what had gotten into him, though he knew full well what had gotten in Dean. The usual...  


  
Nah, there was nothing ‘usual’ about tonight. Tonight he’d finally understood what he wanted and what was meant to be, and had come to terms with it. He wanted his brother for all time, and in every way. Right there, on the sofa, as they’d made out, they’d bared their hearts and made their promises of forever.

Sure it was still complicated, but he was determined that they would make it through. And by the time he’d dragged himself away from Dean, he’d noticed that there was nothing ‘distant’ in his brother’s eyes, not anymore. A smile curved his lips as he went to sleep in the top bunk, knowing Dean was downstairs, taking the first watch and thinking about him.

*

It was hot. So damned hot. And crowded. Hell, the ‘safety rail’ was digging into his stomach. And on top of all that, he had a hard-on like he couldn’t believe, and it wasn’t even morning. Biting his lip, he started to push away from the side of the bed when he felt a warm hand slide up between his thigh.

His heart stuttered as the hand... Dean’s moved up and down, touch him, getting him going. “Dean,” he hissed, suddenly realizing his brother had pushed himself into the tiny bed with him and was responsible for the state of his body. This was why his pulse was racing and his chest contracting. This was why he needed to fuck so bad, it was painful. “What’re you doing to me?” he asked in a tortured voice, trying to turn around, and so very aware of Dean’s hard cock throbbing against his ass.

* * *

Dean spent most of the night lounging back on the couch, his objective of cleaning the weapons pretty much forgotten, his hands behind his head, and probably the stupidest grin ever plastered on his face but he couldn’t really help himself. The taste of his brother was still in his mouth, on his lips. The feel of the younger man’s warm skin still made his fingertips tingle even though Sam had gone to bed hours ago. He was _happy_ and that was so damned shocking he just couldn’t stop thinking about it and the reason for his happiness.

Sam. Always Sam. His younger brother had always meant everything to him his whole life, and now Sam meant even more. Dean hadn’t realized just what a deep seated fear the thought of his brother leaving him was until it was no more. Gone, erased with just a few simple words from Sam, his fear that Sam would no longer want this new and forbidden relationship between them. His fear that once it was all “over”, whether he was cured or not, one day Sam would go back to California, back to school, and a girlfriend, and a life that Dean could never be a part of.

Instead Sam had chosen him. Sam loved him and would always love him. Sam was going to stay with him, no matter what. His brother wasn’t just telling him what he thought he wanted to hear. He knew Sam meant it. Sam wouldn’t lie to him about something that big. A small part of him worried that his brother might one day regret his decision, regret loving him as more than a brother, but he refused to think about it now.

For once in his god damned life he was happy. Even after the fucking rollercoaster these last few weeks had been, not to mention how it would get worse soon, and of course the six months he’d been a prisoner, he was happy and he was going to enjoy it for as long as he fucking could.

A little bit before dawn Dean made his way upstairs to wake his brother so that Sam could take the second watch. He couldn’t help but grin when he saw that the younger man had _actually_ squeezed himself onto the top bunk bed and with a mischievous glint in his eye Dean stripped down to his underwear and climbed up the latter silently and squeezed himself in up against his brother’s back.

There was absolutely _no_ room, and definitely wouldn’t be comfortable in the long run but for the moment Dean didn’t care. He buried his face against the back of Sam’s neck, running his hands over Sam’s body slowly, waking him up in more ways than one. The smell of his brother’s arousal made him hard in seconds and tenting the front of his shorts as he ground himself against the younger man’s ass in easy circles.

“I think it’s kind of obvious… unless you want me to draw you a picture…”Dean grinned against his brother’s neck, raining soft kisses along the younger man’s warm flesh. He squeezed his brother’s thigh before slipping his hand around to caress Sam’s heavy dick.

* * *

“Mmmm,” Sam involuntarily arched back against Dean., even the slightest irritation driven from his mind by the feelings pulsing through his body and memories of their talk. “You _know_ I like it when you draw me a picture.”

A forward thrust had his mouth banging against the railing. He mentally cursed and put a hand out, his fingers curling tightly around the railing, tightening to the same rhythm that Dean was squeezing and stroking him. Fuck... he was so damned hard, even with the knowledge that Bobby was just downstairs.

He moaned again, biting his lip, trying to keep sounds to a minimum, but the sensation of Dean’s mouth traveling back and forth over his back and neck, his arousal pressing insistently against his ass, and the attention he was giving his cock, was making the battle one that Sam knew he’d lose.

“Dean, he’ll hear me.” He muttered the admission of his inability to control himself, not wanting to stop, but not knowing how they could do this. He searched with his hand slightly behind him, running up and down Dean’s side, and cupping his ass... kneading his flesh and choking back another groan. “Fuck...”

He couldn’t remember ever having felt this out of control in his life. Out of control with lust, with need, with love... so willing to take risks, to throw away everything he’d gained, everything that could be... and not look back. “Fuck ... Dean... please...” he started to writhe and threw his head back against Dean’s shoulder.

* * *

Dean’s first thought to Sam’s protest that Bobby would hear him if they kept going was, _So what?_ But the part of his brain not completely clouded by lust and hunger knew it would be a very very bad thing if Bobby even suspected, much less heard them making out or fucking upstairs. It would be bad enough getting it from Bobby himself, but then Bobby would tell their father and who knew the explosion that might cause.

But considering they had made out with their father in the bed _next_ to them, and since Sam wasn’t exactly telling him to cease and desist, Dean wasn’t about to stop. They just had to get a little creative that’s all.

Though he was really enjoying their current position, the way Sam was grabbing and pushing back against him, not to mention the feel of his brother so hot and heavy in his hand Dean forced himself to release the younger man. His other hand quickly snaking over Sam’s mouth to stop him from protesting loud enough to make his efforts moot.

“Just a second, Sammy. I’ve got you.” Dean whispered reassuringly into his brother’s ear, pushing himself up and cursing softly as he shifted himself around. Bumping his back and then his knee against the safety rails and suddenly having doubts whether or not the small bunk bed would support both their weight.

“Alright, roll over.” He ordered softly, helping Sam onto his stomach and then pulling his brother up onto his hands and knees. Dean slid his hands up Sam’s body, bunching up his t-shirt as he went and fisting the material in his hands he brought it up to his brother’s mouth.

“Bite down.” Dean whispered, plastering himself against the younger man’s mostly bare back and licking the shell of the younger man’s ear. 

* * *

Yeah, he'd been the one to question the wisdom of doing this. Yeah, he was scared to death of what Bobby might hear... what he might find. Yeah, he was mature enough to know better than to take such risks, but when Dean silenced him with his hand only to pull away, he damned well wanted to yell at Dean. He couldn't get him this hard and then just leave him. Hell no...

And then Dean said the right words. _I've got you._ Those three words were all it took to stop him from struggling, to have him trust Dean. He'd make this work, make the fire burning inside him go away. Biting his lip, Sam did as his brother told him, rolled over on his stomach. Feeling Dean's palms against his skin as his brother pushed his shirt up, he groaned and tensed at the sound that came out of him.

Then Dean was whispering in his ear, his hot breath so fucking distracting, the younger Winchester had trouble making sense of what he said. "Wha..." Feeling the material under his mouth, he got what Dean wanted. Opening his mouth, he closed it around the material, whimpering at the feel of his brother's weight pressing over him, his cock, hot, hard and ready, teasing, rubbing along the cleft of his ass.

Needing more, he lifted his ass, one hand twisted painfully behind him, palm gripping Dean's ass cheek... kneading, forcing him closer even as Sam rubbed his cock into the mattress, seeking relief. _Oh God, please Dean... please... can't wait, please... need this,_ he squirmed, his heart banging against his heart as he urged his brother with the motions of his body.

* * *

Dean silenced his own moan against the back of his brother’s neck the way Sam thrust back against his hard dick. He ran his hands over the younger man’s sides and over his back. Rubbing himself between Sam’s hot ass cheeks and knowing exactly where this was going despite the fact that they weren’t really prepared for it. Right now Dean couldn’t really bring himself to care as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of his brother’s boxers and tugged them down swiftly. Pulling his cock out of his own as he rained kisses all over Sam’s sweat slicked back, and he bit off another moan as his next thrust between the younger man’s ass cheeks was nothing but hot skin against hot skin.

His cock was already weeping at the tip, but Dean spit into his palm anyway for what little extra lubrication they could get. He took his cock in hand, running his fingers up and down its length slicking himself up and rubbing the head against his brother’s tight hot hole. Moaning at the sight of his own fluids slicking up the tight puckered skin.

“Let me in, baby brother…” Dean practically purred into the younger man’s ear, gripping Sam’s hip hard enough to leave bruises to steady him as he began to push inside of his brother. Sam was so fucking tight, for a moment Dean didn’t think that the younger man’s body was going to even let him inside, but finally the tight ring of muscles gave allowing him to push inside Sam’s incredible tight heat.

“So fucking hot…” The elder man growled low in his throat, thrusting his hips forward slowly, easing himself as gently as possible into Sam.

* * *

Dean’s grip on him was almost brutal. His brother’s impatience inflamed his own need. He arched slightly up, screwing his eyes tightly shut at the sudden stab of pain. He made a sound of protest, but Dean’s words calmed him... made him want what came after this.

His brother knew what to say, knew how the dirty talk always got to him, and tonight was no exception. Very quickly, he forgot about the burn and was lifting his face up, “Dean, fuck me... I need it so bad.” Then his brother was inside him all the way, and Sam had to clamp his mouth around the roll of material again to prevent the loud groan that threatened to well out of him.

He squirmed, pushing up, a flash of white burning his eyelids as Dean filled him again. So big, so fucking thick and hard inside him, Sam thought he might pass out, but stubbornly held on. He took a couple of breaths, and then Dean was fucking him.... oh God... oh God, it felt so good... so damn good... so hot having Dean whisper in his ear, his moist breath fanning his shoulder and cheek. The way Dean’s voice sort of shook at times, like his brother was just s out of control, somehow raised the intensity of everything he was feeling.

_Dean, Dean, Dean,_ he wanted to call out his name. Wanted to get up on his elbows and push back... wanted Dean’s hand to press his back down as he fucked him... and that was exactly what he imagined as his brother drove inside him again and again.

The bed rocked too hard... they both eased up, but Sam couldn’t take it. He clenched his muscles around his brother and released, and clenched again. Closer, he was getting closer... his fingers tightened around the side railing as his world skittered out of control.

* * *

“I know you need it, baby. I need it too.” Dean groaned, licking a path up his brother’s back as he bottomed out inside his brother, the younger man’s heat surrounding him, so tight, so fucking tight, and perfect. He barely waited for Sam to adjust to him before he began to move, he simply couldn’t the way the younger man began pushing back against him, begging for it. His first slow thrust made him sink his teeth into the back of his brother’s neck to silence himself. To keep himself from moaning or shouting out his pleasure that would surely wake Bobby and bring the older hunter to investigate.

That idea in itself was so damned dirty it made his blood race faster and hotter in his veins. The temptation _not_ to be quiet, to be as loud as he damned well pleased as he fucked his brother, made him scream in pleasure. To not hide it at all and damn the consequences…

But he couldn’t do that to Sam, he wouldn’t, so bit and sucked on his brother’s neck and shoulders as he slid in and out of that exquisite sheath wrapped around him. Quickening his pace and the force of his thrusts, until he was practically pounding his brother’s tight hole. Only the softest moans of passion escaping him.

When the bed rocked too hard against the wall Dean forced himself to slow down, only barely. He was too far gone for that. When Sam began clenching his already tight muscles around him rhythmically Dean bit his own lip bloody to keep from shouting out in pleasure.

“So good, so fucking good, Sammy. You’re so hot. Love it when you’re this hot. Love it when you need it this bad. You’re going to feel me for days after this, I promise you, baby brother.” Dean moaned into the younger man’s ear as he reached around and grasped his brother’s hard cock, jacking the younger man off in counter point to his thrusts.

* * *

The bed knocked against the wall, and Sam couldn’t care. Dean was fucking, like he needed, hard… fast… mercilessly, just getting them there, and that was all that counted. He lifted is head, “Yes, oh God, Dean,…” as his voice started to get louder, he slammed his face back down and bit the material of his tee-shirt, now wet with his saliva.

Only his brother could do this… read him so well. Know … just know he needed to have the daylight fucked out of him right here, right now. Only his brother’s words whispered in his ear could trigger this reaction, only Dean’s hands would ever be allowed to touch him like this… so rough, but so damned perfect.

He knew Dean wanted him like this too, maybe even worse. He was damned sure that his brother was reining himself in, protecting him. “More…” He mumbled, wanting Dean to let loose… not to worry about him. He could handle this. He could handle the consequences tomorrow. Right now was about them only.

Then his brother’s hand was around his cock, and he was whispering again in his ears. Sam writhed back and forth, so far gone… almost moving at a fevered pitch… all he could think about was finding relief. The heat within his belly was coiling so damn tight… he needed to come. Really. Needed. To. Come.

* * *

More…

That was all Dean needed to hear to break the careful reign on his control. Not caring anymore whether or not he made Sam scream at the top of his lungs. Not caring if the bed left noticeable dents in the wall it rocked and banged so hard from their frantic fucking. He’d held back for Sam, but if Sam didn’t want him to hold back…

Dean growled low, possessively, almost animalistic in his throat as he drew almost completely out of the younger man’s body, only the head of his shaft remaining, and then thrust back in hard. The loud obscene slap of their hips only inflaming his need more, and he thrust again, hard and deep, rocking Sam forward and pulling his brother back towards him with the bruising grip on his hip.

“Sam… Sammy…” He whispered the younger man’s name over and over against the hot slick skin of his brother’s neck. He jacked Sam off harder when his brother began to writhe, loving the feeling of Sam coming apart in his arms while he claimed the younger man utterly.

“Come with me, Sammy.” Dean finally growled as he slammed one final time hard and deep into his brother. Biting into Sam’s shoulder so hard to silence himself as he came it was probably a good thing there was a layer of cloth there or Dean might have pierced the younger man’s skin as his seed poured from his pulsing cock deep inside Sam. 

* * *

Each time Dean said his name, Sam thought he was gonna explode. It was like his brother was claiming him, reminding him that he belonged to him, and Sam ... Sam who usually fought... railed against anyone trying to exert their will over him... he was accepting it. Accepting... reveling... loving it. _Needing it._

He bit down at the groan that threatened to break from him when Dean started to pound him harder, just like he needed. He moved his hand behind him, trying to touch Dean, to grip any part of him ... hand sliding over Dean’s sweat slicked skin.

His eyes rolled back as Dean took him to the very edge, jacking him off and fucking him... making him feel so fucking helpless all he could do was give in to the intense sensations crashing over him. _Fuck... oh God Dean, Dean... oh God._

Then his brother was telling him to come, and he bit his lip as Dean drove into him a final time, the pleasure and pain taking him right over the edge with Dean. As his brother shuddered over him, releasing his spunk deep inside him, Sam bit back a scream punctuating his own release.

He couldn’t help undulating his hips still, rubbing himself against Dean’s hand still under him... cupping his softening cock now, and pushing back into his brother. His throat was dry. He swallowed, and moved his head to the side. His breaths were too loud, and so were Dean’s... God help ‘em if Bobby got up.

“Dean?” His mouth curved into a tired smile. “So good. Just... just what I ... we... needed.” His brother’s weight was comforting, even if he would probably get too heavy after a while. “I hope I can still walk,” he snorted.

A couple more minutes passed. “Dean? Does it... does it feel like we’re one, when ... you know, we’re doing it?” He lifted his face as much as he could, trying to get a look at Dean. “Or does it feel like just sex, like with anyone?” He knew Dean hated these talks, but he had a burning need to know what Dean felt inside. 

* * *

Dean collapsed heavily against his brother’s back as the intense waves of pleasure from his orgasm began to diminish. Pressing the younger man into the mattress (not to mention the wet spot) beneath Sam in a way that was probably uncomfortable but he simply couldn’t force his body to move right now. Truthfully, he didn’t even want to move. He wanted to stay just like this, as close as physically possible to Sam, for as long as he possibly could. His fingers still cupping the younger man’s softening cock gently, his own cock still buried deeply inside his brother’s body, his come leaking from Sam’s hole stretched around him.

He could feel Sam’s small movements beneath him, pushing into his hand gently, pushing back onto his cock as though trying to take even more of him inside. Dean pressed soft warm kisses into the back of the younger man’s neck, squeezing and rubbing Sam’s cock tenderly as he shifted his hips from side to side, stimulating and stretching the younger man’s well used hole without having to pull out of him and break the contact.

“Mmmm…” Dean agreed wordlessly as he gently nuzzled his brother’s neck just underneath his ear. Yes, this was exactly what they both had needed. Though he didn’t know whether to be pleased, amused, or a little concerned when Sam wondered aloud if he’d be able to walk in the morning. Hell, if he’d be able to walk for the _week_ considering how hard Dean had fucked him.

Dean groaned half heartedly in complaint however when Sam predictably went all emo on him all of a sudden. Hadn’t they shared enough girly heart to heart share your feelings moments for one night?

“Such a girl, Sammy, always wanting to _talk_ after you come.” Dean teased, his voice warm and affectionate however, as he gently rolled them both over so that they were on their sides and he wasn’t crushing his brother into the mattress anymore. He propped himself up on his elbow just enough so they could look at each other without Sam wrenching his neck. Sliding his hand that had been gently fondling his brother’s cock up Sam’s stomach and chest, through the mess of his brother semen, and back down, in a slow petting motion.

“Course it doesn’t feel like this with anyone, because you’re not just anyone, Sammy.” The elder man finally said softly, leaning down to kiss his brother tenderly.

* * *

Unable to deny the accusation in this instance, Sam gave a self-conscious laugh, loving how his brother’s breath skimmed over his ear and face. As Dean pulled out of him, he let out a soft sigh, thinking Dean was going to deny him an answer.

He turned over at Dean’s urging, quirking an eyebrow at the bigger mess Dean was making of him. The scent of their lovemaking was so thick in the air, it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. And looking into Dean’s eyes now, for the first time in a long time he saw peace. No anger, no fear, no anxiety... just peace, and a soft look meant only for him. He rolled closer and stole a kiss, smiling as their tongues met, and pulling back.

Then Dean told him how he felt, and the moment could not have been any more perfect. He kissed Dean back, his mouth lingering over his brother’s, tasting, mapping, cherishing. “No, I’m not just anyone. I’m your Sammy,” he agreed between kisses.

Even when he’d been waist high when compared to his brother, he’d known... he’d known he was the most important thing to Dean. When they’d grown up, he’d known it was slightly unnatural, the way Dean put him above all else. It was a product of their childhood, of having had to raise and protect him, of being responsible for him. Sam had been grateful for it, he loved his brother, loved him so much. For years, it had hurt being apart from him in college. Worse was the fact they didn’t really communicate. That was his own fault. He’d been afraid Dean would side with their dad, and that fear had kept him from calling. That had been stupid... and he was kicking himself for it.

“I... Know how I never felt like I fit anywhere?” he asked tentatively. “I know where I fit now, Dean. Here, with you. Only you.” This time he took control of the kiss, putting all of his emotions into it, cupping the side of Dean’s face and moving it back and forth, positioning him where he wanted.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but grin into the kiss at his brother’s soft words between gentle nips with his teeth and swipes of his tongue. _His Sammy._ Dean definitely liked the sound of that. Especially considering for much of his brother’s teenage and adult life he’d been trying to kick the old nickname Dean and their father had called him since before he could walk.

“Damned straight my Sammy.” Dean agreed with a soft chuckle, kissing the younger man again thoroughly as his fingers continued to map out every line and curve of muscle along every inch of skin he could reach. Enjoying the easy silence and, yes, cuddling. He was tracing up and down the length of his brother’s spine, sometimes dipping low enough to slip between his ass cheeks for a gentle fondle when Sam spoke again.

His brother’s question made Dean’s throat feel a little tight in spite of himself as he nodded. Yes, of course he remembered. Most of his life his younger brother had lamented about not being able to stay in one place long enough to make friends. Not being able to stay in contact with the ones he did make because it would make them too easy to track. Always feeling like an outcast, even in their own family because Sam had always wanted a different life. A life that didn’t involve hunting. A life without their father or him…

Knowing all this it only made his brother’s next admission, that this is where he ‘fit’, with him and no one else, all the more perfect, all the more special, all the more treasured…

Dean moaned softly when Sam kissed him again, letting his brother take control, opening his mouth for the slick hot tongue to explore him as he wished. He held on to Sam as tight as he dared, knowing he’d never felt as loved by anyone, not his father or even his mother, as he felt loved by Sam. He supposed it was no wonder that the “wolf” inside of him had chosen Sam is its “mate”. Not when Sam had always been the most important thing in his life. Not when he held everything he had ever wanted right here in his arms. 

* * *

Twenty minutes later, after Sam had fended off Dean’s efforts to convince him to shower together in the small closet of a bathroom downstairs, right next to Bobby’s room, Sam finished taking his own shower. Dean had taken a quick one and was waiting on him so that he could take over the watch and Dean could go get some sleep.

Pushing the door open and finding Dean sitting on the sofa, eyes wandering up and down his half naked body, Sam shook his head, silently mouthed the word ‘no’ and pulled the towel tighter around him. He _knew_ his brother.

“Go get some rest,” he told him, turning around to put on the clothes he’d brought down with him. First he listened for Bobby, to make sure the crusty hunter didn’t get an eyeful of something he might not want.

Sam could feel Dean’s stare. He could even feel his brother’s amusement at the fact he’d turned around. He dropped the towel, bent over and started pulling up his shorts, “answer is still ‘no.’” This time, he was the one who was amused. Very quickly, he pulled up his jeans, zipped up and turned around.

The smile was wiped off his face when he found himself staring into bright yellow eyes instead of mischief filled green ones. His heart slammed into his chest, his mind working as fast as it could. Where the chains were. The gun. The room with a cage downstairs that Bobby had told them about, without detailing the exact reason they’d come here... it was obvious.

“Dean. Let’s go downstairs.... _now,_ ” he said softly but firmly. The smart thing would have been to wake Bobby. To have back up. But he wasn’t sure that anyone, anyone but him would spare the silver bullet... and he couldn’t take that chance.  
 ****  


* * *

Dean’s hair was still wet and small beads of water were dripping down the back of his neck into the collar of his unbuttoned shirt as he sat on the couch waiting for Sam to finish his shower. He had tried to convince the younger man they could just shower together but his brother had steadfastly refused. He knew it was probably a good decision considering he could never seem to keep his hands off of Sam when so much of his brother’s skin was revealed and the walls between the rooms weren’t _that_ thick. Still he’d pouted, mostly for show, as he went downstairs to take his shower alone, and then when they switched and his brother went in after him.

With his sharpened senses he could hear practically every drop of water hitting the bottom of the tub or striking his brother’s skin. He could practically smell Sam’s warm wet skin, even through the door. He could close his eyes and just imagine watching wet soap suds sliding down Sam’s flesh, his hands following their path, touching him everywhere that Dean wanted to touch. He imagined licking warm drops of water away inch by inch, savoring every taste of flesh...

The only thing keeping him from going into the bathroom to do just that was Sam’s warning that he wouldn’t get any the next time they were alone, not that he really believed his brother, and the sound of Bobby’s breaths and snores from the other bedroom.

When he heard the shower cut off Dean opened his eyes, staring at the bathroom door and then his mostly nude brother as Sam exited. The younger man looking just as delicious as he knew he would, his skin glistening and his hair wet, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist…

Dean chuckled softly at his brother’s silent ‘no’ and the way he turned away before dropping the towel… like that view was any less appealing to Dean. It might have been even more so as the younger man bent over to get on his underwear and jeans. Giving Dean a splendid view of the younger man’s ass he’d just fucked practically raw.

When Sam turned around, the expression on the younger man’s face and his scent changing abruptly to worry, bordering on fear, Dean’s expression remained unchanged. Almost unconcerned. His head tilting to the side a little as he considered Sam’s words, his brother’s order, and then a slow smile began to break out on his face.

“Why?” He asked casually, though his tone suggested he was anything but curious. 

* * *

As safe as he’d felt in his brother’s arms less than half an hour ago, and as much as he told himself that Dean would never hurt him … not when he was himself, and not even when he was under the influence of the wolf he was becoming… the truth was that staring into those yellow eyes, Sam was afraid. Afraid that in one moment, in a split second, an uncontrolled Dean could wipe out everything… everything they had just become to each other.

Fighting his natural instincts, he forced himself to hold Dean’s gaze, to evaluate his stance. He looked normal, but that smile, it didn’t fit the situation. Dean would know why he wanted to go downstairs, and it would be no laughing matter. At least if Dean were in control of himself.

Remembering that night when Dean had hurt him, remembering the lesson to stay submissive, Sam vowed he would no matter what. He smiled back, just as casually, though every muscle in his body was so tense it hurt. “You know why, Dean. Just come with me.” Sam licked his lips, and put his hand out. “I’ll be with you. Promise.”

* * *

Dean’s eyes flickered down to the younger man’s mouth when Sam licked his lips, then traveled even further down to the hand held out to him, before slowly returning to his brother’s face. For a few long moments he merely stared at Sam, his expression never shifting. Until finally he sat up from his relaxed position on the couch and slowly stood up. Dean approached his brother in a slow easy manner, stopping only when he stood barely a foot from Sam. He didn’t take the younger man’s hand and the smile slipped from his face as he looked into his brother’s eyes.

“Do you think you can lie to me? I can hear your heart pounding. I can smell your fear…” Dean practically whispered as he leaned in closer to the younger man. Closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, like he was scenting Sam.

Quickly he lifted a hand to cup the back of his brother’s neck and dragged Sam up against him with a soft growl. Tilting his head to the side and sliding his lips down the side of his brother’s face and neck. Breathing in deeply again.

“Why are you afraid of me?” Dean asked, his question more a reprimand than inquiry. 

* * *

Dean’s slow appraisal definitely had him nervous. The way he walked towards him, it reminded Sam too much of a predator stalking its prey. No that was ridiculous. This was his brother. And yet the look on Dean’s face as he deliberately ignored Sam’s outstretched hand was definitely unfriendly. Sam let his hand fall to his side.  
  
He sucked his breath in, hardly daring to move as Dean leaned in and sniffed him. His heart was pounding out of control, and there wasn’t a damned thing Sam could do about it. The words, whispered over his ear sent a shiver down his back. Was he imagining the edge to them?

Swallowing, Sam struggled not to pull away when he Dean tugged him close by the neck and he found himself pressed up against a wall of immovable muscle, the danger of the moment punctuated by the inhuman growl from Dean.

Sam’s chest rose and fell, though he tried to control his breathing, even when Dean’s mouth traveled up and down his face and throat. His eyes widened at the question.

“I’m not, Dean.” He didn’t dare move, and spoke close to his brother’s ear. “I just… I really think we need to do this, go downstairs.” What was he supposed to say? I want to put you in a cage? Chain you up like an animal. Like that was going to go over well. “We can talk there. The rest of the night, if you like.” 

* * *

Dean hummed softly, as though he was considering Sam’s words but didn’t reply. He simply continued nuzzling against the younger man’s neck. Licking slowly over the spot where his brother’s pulse pounded strongly against his tongue.

Finally Dean pulled back, though he didn’t step away or release the younger man. Just far enough so that he could look at Sam straight in the eyes. Close enough that his every exhaled breath warmed his brother’s lips. He wasn’t smiling.

“I think...” He finally said softly, slipping his other hand around Sam’s waist, holding his brother even more securely to him if it were possible, as he began to back the younger man up. “We can ‘talk’ right here...”

Dean had backed Sam up against the door, then kicked his legs apart a little more to bring them more to an even height. Using the weight of his body he pinned the younger man up against the hard wood.

“So... Start talking, Sammy...” Dean whispered, his voice more amused now, though he didn’t actually let his brother reply. Instead covering Sam’s mouth with his own and forcing his tongue past his brother’s lips with a low growl.

* * *

The wet lick had Sam on edge. As if that wasn’t enough, Dean was in his face, holding him so damned close, using his body to corral him, to force him to walk backwards. If it weren’t for the situation, if there wasn’t the danger… if the older hunter weren’t just in the other room… yeah, then maybe his body's response would make sense.

But how could fear mingle with arousal like this? Why was he getting hard despite all of the alarms going off in his brain at the sight of the yellow glint in his brother’s eyes and his sudden aggression, hidden as it was behind softly spoken words and requests? There was no question in Sam’s mind that if he tried to push Dean away, if he made any sudden moves, things would go south.

He was pushed into the door, his back pressing tightly against it, trapped between Dean’s unforgiving body and the equally immovable door. His eyes widened as Dean made him stand with his legs apart. He couldn’t read him, couldn’t read his unsmiling features and that made his heart beat even faster.

“Dean… Bobby,” he whispered, pleading even as Dean’s mouth descended over his. Any objection he had was quelled by Dean’s growl, and forceful thrust of his tongue. A soft moan escaped Sam, half protest and half submission. The heat between them was an unstoppable force, one Sam couldn’t fight, especially when he couldn’t just react, couldn’t push him, couldn’t straight-out tell him ‘no.’

“Mmm,” Sam started to kiss his brother back, but the way Dean’s tongue moved in his mouth, the way he took control, it was clear Dean was asserting his authority, making it clear this was going _his way._ As every corner of his mouth was probed, Sam finally put one arm around Dean’s shoulder, the other around his waist, chasing his brother’s tongue… swaying towards him until he ran out of breath.

When he pulled back, and took some air, he stared into Dean’s eyes. Still at a loss. “We can’t do this… not here, not now.” Applying just a little pressure, he started to push Dean away. “Come on bro, we don’t want to wake him or give him an eyeful, right?” Smiling, he put an arm around Dean, “let’s go.” Just because his pulse was out of control didn't mean he couldn't act casual... God he hoped his brother bought it.

* * *

Of course Dean caught the change in his brother’s scent. The spike of arousal as Dean pressed against him, kissed him. As pressed as close together as they were it was impossible for him to not feel Sam’s body responding. Sam’s soft moans and the way the younger man submitted to his kiss making his own body respond with desire. Desire he always felt for Sam even when they’d just finished making love so intensely not so long again. Despite the shower his brother taken he could still smell himself all over the younger man’s flesh, faint but there. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sam was still wet inside from him…

Dean wanted more than just that faint smell of ownership on the younger man’s flesh proclaiming his brother as his, however. And though Sam was submitting to him, he could still taste, still smell, that bitter tang of fear. The younger man’s heart beating so fast not only with desire…

He didn’t like it. His mate should not be _afraid_ of him.

When Sam started to push him away, he didn’t really hear the younger man’s words. He understood what they meant. That Sam was denying him. He just didn’t hear the actual words, and Dean growled again, louder. Grabbing the younger man by his shoulders and shoving him harder up against the door with a much louder thump.

“Why are you afraid of me?” Dean demanded, the low rumbling growl continuing through his words as he warned, “Don’t lie to me.”

* * *

Sam had already tensed, his jaw clenched tight as he was rammed back against the door with great force. The warning growls. The way Dean was in his face, his eyes blazing, and the repeated demand for the truth sent a new shard of fear through Sam.

Did dean have the capacity to think clearly at the moment? Would anything he said have a real impact? Or would this be a repeat of that night when Dean had been in a fever and nothing got through to him?

“Dean…” He started to pull away from the door but froze at the implacable look on Dean’s face. “I’m afraid because _you_ told me to be. Remember? I want you to come downstairs because _you_ said when you get like this, you need to be held.” A forced the word out, “chained.” He took a deep breath. “So you won’t hurt me. Like last time,” he said softly, tugging his tee up and slowly trying to turn to show him the damage he’d inflicted before.

* * *

The anger in Dean’s golden yellow eyes faded slightly, and was replaced by confusion when Sam began to stammer out the reasons why he was afraid. Because _he_ had told him to be afraid? Why would he tell Sam to be afraid of him?

Chained... Dean stiffened and growled a little at that word, but he grew silent again quickly as Sam rushed on to explain. So he wouldn’t hurt Sam... like... last time?

Dean finally looked away from Sam’s eyes when the younger man began to pull up his shirt. His eyes traveling down the length of his brother’s body. He finally stepped away from the younger man enough to let his brother turn, even though he still crowded the younger man up against the door. When he finally saw, finally understood, what Sam was referring to, he grew very still.

The claw marks were his own and were not even a few days old. Barely healed at all it was probably a wonder that he had not broken open a few of the scabbed over wounds with their passionate love making or when he had pushed Sam up against the door. The wounds were not very deep, but probably still painful, still tender... With an intense feeling of regret, he realized that once the wounds were healed they would probably scar.

This was why Sam was afraid of him... because he thought Dean would hurt him...

Dean’s hands settled gently on the warm flesh of Sam’s back, his fingers spread out over the younger man’s ribs on either side of the parallel slashes. Pushing the younger man’s shirt up more. Moving slowly, Dean leaned down to brush his lips lightly over Sam’s shoulder blade, giving careful tender kisses and licks all around the wounded flesh. As though he could erase the marks and any pain associated with them with his touch alone.

Once he was done he straightened again and slipped his arms around Sam’s waist, pulling the younger man back against his chest, holding him as though he were made of the most fragile glass. He nuzzled his brother’s neck, just behind the younger man’s ear.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I did not mean to. Would never hurt you.” He whispered softly between kissing Sam gently. “I’ll go... downstairs... if it will make you less afraid...”

* * *

Just when Sam thought he was safe, that Dean was letting him turn, he was pretty much trapped again against the door. Dean didn’t have to push, he could and did use his body, positioning himself close, and not allowing him much space to move.

Holding his breath, he imagined he could feel the weight of Dean’s gaze traveling over his back, lingering on the still angry red marks. Blood. Dried blood. Would that trigger something bad... some deeper animalistic instincts? Hands flat against the wall, he leaned his forehead against it too, holding his breath.

The warm wet sensation of Dean’s tongue laving him wasn’t what he’d expected. So gentle, so loving, so at odds with that creepy coldness that had taken him over. “Dean?” he whispered, hesitating to even guess what was on his brother’s mind.

Then he was pulled flush against Dean’s body, his brother’s arms wrapped protectively around him. Then he was being kissed again, and whispered to. “I know, I know you are Dean. You didn’t mean to... you were sick,” he answered, nodding at his brother’s agreement to go downstairs. “Okay Dean.”

He didn’t want to make any sudden moves. Turning as slowly as if he were in a vat of molasses, he closed his eyes to the last remaining vestiges of deep yellow in Dean’s eyes, leaned in and kissed him. Sliding his hand over Dean’s he started to walk to the door leading to the basement.

True to his word, Dean didn’t protest of give him any trouble. As they negotiated the very narrow wooden stairway, he could feel Dean right behind him, as if he was ready to catch him... pull him back if he fell. Yeah maybe after what just went down, he ought be more worried about whether Dean would change his mind and attack, but there was too much history between them, and his first and most natural instinct was to trust his brother beyond all others.

They reached the bottom and Sam bit his lip at the dingy little room, and the cage. “I don’t think we need chains,” he said eventually, opening the creaking door. “Dean... I love you. We’re getting through this. It’s _temporary_.”

* * *

Dean had followed his brother passively down the stairs to the basement, though the second his eyes fell on the cage he tensed. Frozen in place and staring at the cold iron bars with not a little fear in his eyes. In there, he would be trapped. He would be helpless. Unable to defend himself _or_ Sam. A cold sweat began to drip down the back of Dean’s neck and he clenched his fists at his side.

The younger man would never understand how hard it was for him to stand there in that dark room, where the walls themselves felt like they were going to close in on him, and not simply turn around and run back up the stairs. Out of the basement, out of the house, out into the open where he would be free. Not contained. Not imprisoned. Not trapped…

He’d been imprisoned for so long… chained…

His first instinct was to snarl and back away when the younger man went over to the cage and opened the door. The low growl had already started in his throat but he grew silent again quickly at Sam’s words… As though they were any real reassurance. All Dean felt was pain.

Because it was Sam’s fear of him, his belief that Dean would hurt him unless he was… contained… why Dean was here. Why, as hard as it was for him to do so, he slowly walked into that cage. His head bowed and defeat etched into every line of his body. Only to prove to Sam that he would not hurt him.

Dean crouched down at the back corner of the cage. His yellow eyes glinting with unshed tears as he finally looked up at the younger man, waiting for him to shut the door. 

* * *

Sam might not be able to scent fear, but he damned well noticed Dean's hesitation. Confusion or indecision maybe. As he passed him, walking like an old man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Sam flashed back to another reaction Dean had before to being chained. Sheer panic when he'd found himself cuffed to the bed.

It wasn't only Dean who was being indecisive. Sam was about three seconds from telling him to get back out here, that they'd deal. That they could risk it… would find a way.

But that was his heart talking. His heart that was entwined ten ways from Sunday in Dean's sitch. The love of a brother, of a friend… of a lover, and a _mate._. Weird how he'd pegged himself as that, without Dean ever calling him his mate. He just knew.

His own eyes stung as he watched his brother sit at the back wall, so alone… A lump rose in his throat, but he did what his gut, what his hunter's instinct told him to. He slowly closed the door and locked it, gaze never leaving his brother's defeated figure.

With leaden feet, he walked to the stairs and placed the key onto a nail in the wall, then came back. One hand curling around the cold bar, he spoke. "I'm not gonna leave you here alone Dean. I'm right here with you. Morning will come soon, the moon will go away."

He took a deep breath. "Remember that time we were out at some cabin… this place kind a reminds me of it, only it's ten times better? It didn't even have a bathroom? Remember when I went out to do my 'business' and I thought I heard an animal." He started to laugh. "I was trying to get zipped up so I could run back and your voice came at me from behind? I remember what you said. 'I got your back, Sammy.'" He smiled at the old memory. "Well Dean, I've got your back. Right here, right now. I swear man, I've got your back."

* * *

Dean looked slowly looked away from his brother as the younger man finally closed and locked the cage door. Trapping him inside. Like an animal… like he was a danger… Some part of him realized that Sam was doing the right thing. Some part of him was even pleased that the younger man was doing this. That part of him realized that he was not… like he normally was… was aware of the change. That part even knew that Sam had a good reason to be afraid…

That part was far away now, however. The part of him that was… awake… now didn’t understand why Sam, his mate, was afraid of him. It didn’t understand that the younger man was doing this as much for Dean’s protection as his own. It could only feel hurt by his brother’s lack of trust, not to mention devastated by the fear the younger man felt of him, and… afraid… of being locked away like this.

Bars. He hated bars. He hated chains. He hated being confined. The cage so small he could only walk a few steps in either direction. It was easier to remain still, in one place, the bars didn’t seem so close then. But it didn’t stop him from being afraid. Afraid of being trapped, afraid of being defenseless… But more than fear for himself, he feared for the one he loved that he could no longer protect.

Dean’s hands clenched into tighter fists, his finger nails had grown longer, sharper and they dug into his palm. The pain helped center him a little. Though the sound of the younger man walking away from him was like a stab to his heart with every step his brother took.

Sam had said he wouldn’t leave… Dean didn’t know if he could handle being in this cage all alone…

Dean looked up, the relief he felt when Sam returned and promised again he was not going to leave making him almost want to weep. Sam’s reassurances however made little sense to him. The moon? Dean glanced towards the small windows of the basement, but all he could see was darkness.

Yes, he could feel the moon, on some level he understood the changes, the power, that its cold silver light gave him. It called to him at an instinctual level. Almost as strong as his instinct to protect his mate. But he knew there was something wrong with the moon. It wasn’t… the right time. He only felt part of its power.

He shouldn’t be like this now. He should not be changed. But it had happened before. He had changed a little, when something was wrong… wrong with his mate… The first time when he had thought Sam loved another, the second when he’d been sick and thought Sam was leaving him, now…

Dean had been so focused upon Sam, so focused on trying to understand why Sam was afraid of _him_ he hadn’t bothered to consider anything else. Dean did now. He focused all of his senses as much as he could outside of this room. Dean sat up straighter, sniffing the air, listening for the faintest sound outside. Wind. Leaves blowing. A rustle. A creak. It could be nothing. It could be…

Dean stood up abruptly, the animalistic growl rumbling from his chest the only warning before they heard the gun shots from upstairs. 

* * *

Deep down, Sam knew he shouldn’t feel hurt just because Dean wasn’t reacting. Wasn’t acknowledging the memory, or agreeing that Sam would watch over him. His brother seemed distinctly withdrawn, disconnected, just as he had from the moment his eyes had changed. It was disconcerting… scary not to know how much Dean understood at this point, and how much the animal had taken over. Yeah, he had come down here, almost as a favor to him, but did he understand why? And did he get what Sam was saying now?

Then there was a greater change in Dean. He seemed to suddenly tense, standing stock still and looking up the stairs.

Before Sam could get out a ‘what?’ His brother growled, and the sound of shots came at them from upstairs. Running to the bottom of the stairs, Sam shouted, “Bobby?!”

The older hunter’s shout of ‘company’ had Sam looking over at Dean. “I’ll be back, I swear Dean. Just have to …” He could see nothing he said would make sense or satisfy Dean… even Dean non-wolfy Dean, he just raced up the stairs vowing he’d make it up to his brother.

Scrambling to the top, he grabbed one of the guns Dean had cleaned and left on the table. “What’s happening?!” he shouted, seeing the window had been shot in and Bobby was at the door, had it open a crack and his barrel was pointing out. “Hunters?”

* * *

Bobby had woken up thanks to the loud banging around the two brothers were making in the other room. Finally the older hunter had dragged himself out of his nice warm bed, grumbling and cursing under his breath the entire time as he threw on a robe so he could go out there and knock the two knucklehead’s heads together for messing around.

Only the living room of the cabin was empty and he started up the stairs to the second floor anyway, figuring the two idjits had gone to bed. But if they were going to wake _him_ up at the ass crack of dawn then turn about was fair play, besides, one of them should have been up, or at least woken him up to take watch. There was too many god damned fanatical hunters out there looking to put a few holes into the oldest Winchester boy to get sloppy.

The thought had barely formed in Bobby’s mind before he thought he saw a shadow pass by the window of the front door and heard the soft clicking of the lock being worked open. Bobby didn’t hesitate. Seeing the guns lined up on the coffee table in the living room he grabbed one of them, had a clip slapped in it within seconds and fired.

The first return shot came through the window, but it was obviously aiming randomly, it was dark enough inside the cabin that the intruders couldn’t see him. Bobby dove behind the couch all the same, because there was always a chance they could get lucky. Bobby heard Sam’s worried shout from downstairs, what the hell were the boys doing downstairs?! But he shouted back, “Company!”

The second shot wasn’t aimed for him at all. Subtlety obviously no longer a concern, they blew open the lock on the door and Bobby shot the first one that tried to come through the door in the leg. Idiot. It was the last warning shot that Bobby was prepared to give. The man fell back, cursing profusely and his partner was dragging him away from the door that was now swinging open.

Bobby had no doubt they weren’t retreating, at least not for long, and he was proved right when he dove out from behind the couch to get the damned door shut and several more gun shots from came at him from the tree line. At least he managed to get the damned door shut.

Bobby was aiming out the slightly ajar door and trying to get a bead on just how many intruders they were going to have to deal with when he heard the near animalistic howls start downstairs and seconds later Sam was there beside him with his own weapon drawn. Bobby had no doubt the howls were coming from Dean but he didn’t have time to worry about that right now, no matter how they chilled his blood.

“That’d be my guess.” Bobby grunted as he peered outside but he couldn’t see shit. “They ain’t gonna stay put for long. Get upstairs. See if you can’t get a better look what’s going on.”

* * *

The howling was heart wrenching for Sam, because he knew the reason. He’d broken his promise to his brother. He’d walked out on him. How many times had Dean told him he couldn’t stand that? How many times in just the last few days? It didn’t make it any better that he had no choice. None.

The look in Bobby’s eyes, the one he glimpsed for a fraction of a second scared the shit out of him. Made him almost glad they had other company. Yeah, he knew Bobby well, should trust him... did trust him. But he was a hunter through and through. Just like a part of Sam didn’t _completely_ trust dad not to put a bullet through Dean’s head, he didn’t trust Bobby not to. These men were hunters through and through, and they knew to do the ‘hard thing’ when it came time to. He couldn’t help worrying... just couldn’t, even if he loved and otherwise trusted them with his own life, he couldn’t trust them with Dean’s. Not fully.

Taking Bobby’s place at the door, he tried to see in the dark. There was a momentary glint of metal reflecting the moon. He shot, and had to go behind the wall to get away from the return shots. Another shot came through a window in a different direction, which told him there were at least two out there.

“We can’t stay like this.” He looked over his shoulder at Bobby. “They’ll have us holed up in here until they get reinforcements, and then...” He nodded toward the stairs. “There’s a small window, faces the back. You keep them busy, I’m going to climb out and see if I can circle behind them.”

He knew would have fucking cow. He also knew Dean would do the same in the same situation.

* * *

Sam was gone... he had left...

He had promised not to leave, yet he had left. Left him down here alone. Left him in this cage. Trapped...

Dean didn’t know what was going on. All he knew was that there was danger. He was in danger. Sam was in danger, and he couldn’t protect him. He couldn’t protect him because he was trapped in this cage. Because Sam had left him in this cage...

Dean howled after Sam in rage, pain, and fear as the younger man ran up the stairs. He grabbed and shook the bars with all his might. He clawed at the lock until his fingers bled. When that didn’t work, he threw his whole body against them but the door to his cage did not budge an inch.

Bruised and bloodied he stalked back and forth in front of the door, growling and whimpering, but Sam did not return. Dean howled as though he were dying, but Sam still didn’t return.

He was alone... Sam had left him... left him...

***

Bobby cursed at the shots that came in two different directions, confirming what he had feared. He already knew there were at least two hunters out there. Most likely more, and Sam was right. There was nowhere they could run and if they couldn’t get inside all they had to do was keep them pinned down till even more reinforcements arrived. He and Sam would be sitting ducks. Maybe they would leave him and John’s youngest alive, but Dean they’d shoot on the spot. They had to end this now, before the hunters could get smart and let others know where they were.

Sam’s plan was almost suicide since they didn’t know where they were or how many were out there but they didn’t have much of a choice at this point. Bobby finally nodded.

“Go. I’ll cover you best I can from here.”

* * *

One more loud howl from his brother, and Sam nodded at Bobby. “Good luck. And Bobby, if they get in here...” He nodded toward the basement, and left the rest unsaid.

Climbing the stairs to at a time, he could have wept at the sight of their bunk bed, the blankets hanging of the side. They hadn’t had a chance to clean up yet, and he could still smell their sex in the air.

No... last night had been special. No one, and nothing was going to take this away from them.

His expression hardening, Sam determinedly moved to the window. He put a pillow against it, waiting to see if anyone would take a shot. When they didn’t, he opened it as quietly as he could.

Shots rang out, but they were still from the front of the house. Half sliding down the slanted room, he caught the ledge with one hand, hanged down off its side, and dropped down to the ground.

Nothing happened. Breathing a sigh of relief, he gripped the rifle tighter and checked the hand gun at his back. Looking around, he made a run for the forest, and started circling around.

The sound of shots increased. Bobby must know he was out here and he was drawing fire, both to keep the others off his tail, and so he could find them.

He saw the first hunter. Same one as he’d run into at the bar. The one that had let him go. A sick feeling settled low in Sam’s stomach as he took aim, waited, then squeezed the trigger. He hit the guy, but the injured man was running.

Other shots were fired, some in his direction, some at the house. He ducked behind a tree, waited, and then ran. None of them could leave this place. A deal ... none of them would make one, Bobby had said they were fanatics.

Three men, including the injured one converged and started to rush the house, shooting like they were going to get past whoever was at the door. Sam chased them, shouting, “Bobby,” stopping, aiming, and firing, and firing again... old lessons, ingrained deeply from childhood, surfacing and being put to use. For Dean... for them...

* * *

Bobby gave a grim nod to Sam’s “instructions” not that it was needed. He wasn’t about to let those fanatical hunters get their hands on John’s oldest boy. If he thought of John Winchester as a brother, then he definitely thought of these two knuckleheads as adopted nephews.

The older hunter then turned his attention back to the door and the woods beyond, ignoring the racket that Dean was making downstairs. Just as he tried to ignore the fact that the boy had apparently changed, gone a lot more wolf, and it wasn’t even the full moon yet! How the hell?! But that was a whole ‘nother sticky situation that he couldn’t deal with at this point in time.

Though he had to admit when the boy suddenly stopped he was almost more worried than when he was howling like someone was torturing him. Bobby couldn’t afford to leave his post to go check on Dean however. Sam was counting on him. Dean was counting on him too even if the boy had no idea what was going on right now.

Knowing Sam was probably well on his way outside by now, Bobby started taking random pop shots out into the darkness, ducking away from the windows when the shots were returned. Giving Sam the distraction he needed, and letting him know where their enemies were. At least from what he could tell, all the shots were still coming his way and not Sam’s.

Then he heard more gunshots, from a different direction, and knew they were Sam’s. He heard one shout of pain. Didn’t sound like Sam but Bobby couldn’t be sure, and his gut clenched. Then the men broke cover from the trees, trying to rush the house. Probably figuring they had a better chance with only one person guarding the door. Morons. How they’d lasted this long in the business, Bobby wasn’t sure. He almost felt sorry for them. Actually, he did feel sorry for them. But certainly not enough to just let them do what they’d come here to do. Kill Dean…

Bobby took aim at the first man, the limping one he’d shot before in the leg, and pulled the trigger. The man’s head immediately snapped back and he dropped like a sack of potatoes, perfect head shot. No more warning shots. Another man fell to his knees, clutching the bloody hole in his chest before pitching forward. Bobby knew the shot had come from Sam. The last man was close enough Bobby could see the fear in his eyes, indecision, probably considering dropping his gun and throwing up his hands in surrender. Bobby didn’t give him a chance to, shooting him through the heart. They’d had their chances, when they’d gone after Sam twice. They could have quit then. Instead they’d come here.

The older hunter waited a long time, seeing if any more gunfire from possibly any more intruders would erupt, but the woods around the cabin remained silent. Finally Bobby stood up and opened the door. Sighing and running his hand through his thinning hair. Stupid bastards.

“You ok, Sam?” The older man finally called.

* * *

  
_It was easier to fire shots in the heat of battle, than to accept the results afterwards._

Once the gunshots died down, Sam walked to the three men, dropping to his knees and putting his hand on their throats to check for a pulse. He knew Bobby was calling him, but for the life of him, he couldn’t answer. His heart was beating heavily against his chest.

He stared at the blood on his palm and fought a wave of nausea. He’d run away from a life of killing things, and now he had killed people. Humans. Did it really matter which ones had been killed by his bullets and which ones by Bobby’s?

An almost overwhelming urge to turn himself in, to admit what he’d done swept over him. He knew it was illogical, that he’d never succumb to it... but there it was, he couldn’t deny those feelings. It was followed by deep shame. He closed each of the dead hunters’ eyes with a slightly shaky hand.

As he headed back, he told himself they’d had no choice. It had been an ‘us or them’ situation, and they’d created it. He stuffed everything he was feeling deep down inside him, telling himself he couldn’t lose focus. There was a lot to be done yet. Bodies to be buried, cars to get rid of, an alpha wolf to sooth. He couldn’t afford to fall apart or to feel sorry for himself or be so guilt-ridden he couldn’t function or be useful.

He walked in, passing Bobby and hardly meeting the hunter’s eyes with his own. “I’ll be back to take care of...”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, but he dropped the rifle onto the table and headed straight for the doorway to the stairs to the small basement. Taking them two at a time, he reached the bottom and saw Dean in the corner, completely silent.

Grabbing the key off the wall hook, he unlocked the cage. Once inside, he quickly locked the cage again and tossed the key to near the floor of the stairs.

“Dean.” As he grabbed his brother, pulled him into his embrace, he couldn’t care less that Dean might be in half wolf state, where reasoning became vary difficult. “Dean, I’m sorry... I had to... I’m sorry,” he whispered again and again, holding him tight. “Forgive me, please forgive me...”

* * *

Dean’s desperate howls of anger and frustration finally died down to painful whimpers as tried again and again to get out of the cage and nothing worked. The sounds coming from upstairs only made the panic he felt worse and it was making it harder and harder for him to understand what was happening.

All he knew was there was danger. His mate was in danger. His mate was gone and he couldn’t go to him, couldn’t find him, because he was trapped…

Dean threw himself against the bars of the cage one final time, barely managing to bite down the cry of real pain that threatened to escape him when he felt something in his shoulder give. The painful black and blue bruising from his repeated attempts to force the door open and his scraped fingers and knuckles nothing compared to the new fiery agony and he knew he had either dislocated or broken something.

The crushing defeat and despair he felt as he cradled his arm and sank down into one corner of the cage was almost worse than the physical pain however. He whimpered to himself softly for a time but then grew silent. Maybe because the noise upstairs had finally stopped…

Dean didn’t move, even to lift his head, when he heard the footsteps hurrying back down the stairs. He sniffed the air but didn’t even look up when he heard the door to the cage creek open. If he wasn’t hurting so much he might have jumped up and ran out the door as soon as it opened, but he didn’t move. He didn’t need to. Sam was here…

When he felt the warm arms encircle him he flinched a little but didn’t pull away, instead leaning into the comforting warmth with a soft whimper. He buried his face against the younger man’s throat, smelling blood on Sam. Not Sam’s blood. Someone else’s. He smelled death…

He didn’t care. He only cared that Sam was back. Sam was alive...

* * *

"It's alright, all over now," Sam whispered. "I'm right here, right here." Feeling Dean lean into him and make soft sounds, he was a little reassured that Dean wasn't so out of it that he didn't know what was happening.

He started to tell him what happened, explained why he had to leave. Stumbled over his words when he said what he'd done... killed. "You're safe now, that's what's important." He held him a couple of minutes longer then pulled away slightly to look at him.

Dean had been fine when he went into the cage, and now... he was scraped and bloodied, and bruised. "What did you do to yourself?" Sam asked softly. "God Dean..." Eaten by guilt, he pulled his brother into his embrace again, this time dipping his head down and kissing him thoroughly.

Vaguely, he heard the door open and footsteps coming down the wooden stairs. Breaking the kiss, he quickly put his head on Dean's shoulder, but kept hold of him. "He's alright Bobby, everything is gonna be alright," he said, still holding his brother.

* * *

Bobby had watched Sam kneeling over the dead hunters and sighed heavily. Knowing the boy was being eaten by guilt over what he had done, but what could he say? Especially when Bobby was sure he was feeling much the same guilt over the situation as the young man was. Sam already knew they’d had no choice. They both knew that. But that wouldn’t ease the guilt or blame any of them felt over having to take a _human_ life. Hunters at that. The “good” guys. For the most part, anyway even if they were stupid bastards. Hell, if it had been Bobby hunting down a werewolf, and that werewolf had been anyone but Dean…

But it _was_ Dean. And though Bobby might regret how things had gone down, he wasn’t going to feel sorry for it. He’d do the same thing over again if he had to. But at least he and Sam could give these men a decent burial.

Bobby sighed again, giving the boy a brief nod as Sam went past him to go check on Dean. He was more than a little worried about the elder Winchester brother and would have gone down himself but other things had to be taken care of. So Bobby went back to his own room to get some clothes on, if he was going to be digging graves tonight it wasn’t going to be in his robe.

Then he went outside and dragged the bodies over to a spot near the tree line. They’d have to take the bodies deeper into the woods to bury them. Then Bobby went to the shed and retrieved two shovels.

When Sam still hadn’t emerged from the cabin when Bobby was done he began to grow more than a little worried and headed back inside.

“Sam?” No answer. God damn it. Bobby refused to draw his gun as he quickly went to the basement door and descended the stairs. He refused to… however he almost wished he had when he saw that Sam was _inside_ the cage with his brother, and he saw Dean look up at him with blazing golden eyes and growl threateningly Bobby felt his blood turn to ice.

“Sam! What the fuck… Get out of there!” Bobby yelled, and even as it made him sick, he felt his hand instinctively reaching for the weapon he’d tucked into his jeans. His yell and the movement instantly had Dean on his feet, standing in front of Sam. Still cradling his wounded arm, but snarling viciously at the older man. 

* * *

“No!” Sam tried to get around Dean but his brother shifted over so fast, he was blocked. “No, Bobby, he’s fine.” The snarl, the yellow eyes, that stare, that expression that made Dean look like he wasn’t connecting, wasn’t understanding, that’s what he was showing Bobby.

“Don’t,” Sam looked at the older hunter. “He’s just... he’s overprotective of me. This is about me,” he said truthfully. “All he’s done all his life is protect me, and it’s the same now. That’s why I stayed, and dad left. Please...”

His eyes plead with Bobby’s, begging him to see the truth. He knew this was a powder keg. If he knew Bobby, that gun had silver bullets. And if he thought for one instant that Sam was in danger of getting bitten, or anything else, it could be over for Dean.

Slowly, Sam put his arm around Dean’s waist. “It’s alright, you know Bobby’s not going to hurt me. We fought of other hunters, together. Sit down, Dean. I’m right here. Right here,” he whispered, his fingers curling into Dean’s waist more intimately.

* * *

Everything the hunter inside of him knew about werewolves told Bobby to pull the damned trigger. Everything else inside of him that knew about Dean was screaming for him to stop. Indecision warred within him, every second he wasted he knew he could be putting Sam’s life in even more danger, and the younger man was pleading with _him_ not to shoot. Worried about Bobby killing Dean when Bobby was worried about Dean killing Sam and… if he believed Sam’s words… Dean was worried about Bobby killing Sam.

If it wasn’t so insane he would have laughed… or cried…

But Sam would have been begging for the same thing, even if Dean was inches away from ripping out his throat. But Bobby had eyes in his head and he could see clearly enough that Dean wasn’t doing that. Dean was growling at _him_ , the one holding the weapon, not Sam. Before he’d come down the stairs all the way he had seen the younger men curled up together in the corner, right before Dean had jumped up to… protect Sam.

Bobby almost couldn’t believe it, but it was hard when the proof was staring him right in the face. When Sam put his arm around Dean and Dean allowed it. Leaning a little into the embrace that looked all too intimate all of a sudden but the older hunter chased those thoughts away ruthlessly.

Taking a deep breath, praying to every deity he could think of that Sam was right, and he wasn’t completely crazy for listening, he lowered the gun. As soon as he did, Dean’s vicious growls all but stopped but he still looked at Bobby warily.

Then Bobby didn’t know whether to feel horrified or blush when Dean turned into Sam and began nuzzling against his neck.

* * *

Sam held his breath as Bobby’s expression remained skeptical. The hunter finally lowered his weapon, though, and Dean became less aggressive, only his eyes tracking the hunter with a warning in them, but otherwise quiet. “That’s good, Dean,” Sam nodded, wondering just how much Dean understood of his speech.

Then Dean buried his face in his throat, and Sam met Bobby’s gaze. He didn’t flinch away from it, and instead brought his free hand behind Dean’s head, stroking his hair. “Bobby’s cool. Nothing to worry about now.”

He could see the questions in the elder hunter’s eyes. “It’s a wolf thing,” he gave a slight shrug, like it didn’t matter. And it didn’t, not to him. Even if they hadn’t been in a relationship, if Dean needed this, he’d have given it to him.

“I tossed the keys by the stairs. I don’t think...” he looked at Dean, then back at Bobby. “I’m gonna have to stay until morning.” He figured there was maybe an hour to two hours before sun up. “I’ll dig the graves then,” he nodded. “Dean and I can do that, and get rid of their cars.”

He didn’t want Bobby to have to do all that on his own, but now that he was here in the cell, he knew... he knew in his gut it would be bad to agitate Dean again. He’d keep him calm until morning, and then things would be normal again.

“You should go upstairs. He’ll be calmer if its just us,” he said gently, mostly worried about Dean demonstrating his feelings. If it happened, it happened. But best of all possible worlds was no one knowing. No one would understand. They’d think he’d been coerced, that he was sacrificing himself. He knew there wasn’t a thing he could say that would convince Bobby or his dad otherwise, if it came to that. “Come back and get us.”

* * *

Bobby watched the interaction between the two brothers, honestly not knowing what to think. His eyes glanced down towards the floor when Sam mentioned the key and saw it. The older man found he was reluctant to bend down to pick it up, he was reluctant to move at all and risk setting off Dean again. Considering right now he seemed more or less calm. Far from normal, but… docile.

The older hunter certainly didn’t like the idea of Sam staying in there till morning. He liked the idea of leaving Sam down here _alone_ with a partially wolfed out Dean about a hundred times less. Though from the appearance of the older brother Bobby could see it was important to try to keep Dean calm, but even as docile as Dean appeared right now he was still a danger to Sam.

What if he suddenly became agitated again and tried to attack Sam? Bit him? He wanted to insist that Sam at least take his gun so he could protect himself, but Bobby had the feeling if Dean saw him raise it again for any reason he wouldn’t be happy.

Fuck, John was going to kill him for even considering…

“I’ll be upstairs. I’ll start taking care of things, you boys can finish up.” Bobby had to practically force out every single word and it was even harder for him to turn around slowly and start back up the stairs.

Dean lifted his head, watching Bobby, but he didn’t growl or snarl at him again. As soon as the older man was gone, Dean went back to nuzzling his brother’s neck. 

* * *

Seeing Bobby struggle with indecision, Sam was half afraid that he wouldn’t listen. That he’d insist on staying. Or worse, the he’d try to get him to come out of the cage. He sensed that Dean was still on edge, that even a hint that he would leave with Bobby would stir the beast.

When Bobby reluctantly agreed, Sam let his breath out. “Thanks Bobby.” He heard the man trudge up the stairs, and added. “It’s gonna be alright, I’ve got this handled.”

The door closed, and his brother’s face was in his throat again. Sam dipped his face down and kissed him on the mouth. “Your arm. Do you want me to take care of it?” he asked softly. The rest of the scratches and bruises would heal quickly, he knew that. But a dislocated arm had to be put back… it wouldn’t heal alone.

He moved his hand over Dean’s arm, touching him gently, eyes wary and fixed on his brother’s in case there was any warning. “Do you understand, Dean? I can put this back, but it will hurt. What do you want?” 

* * *

Dean sighed and lifted his face a little when Sam’s lips met his own, a soft content sound like a purr escaping from his throat as he relaxed even more in the younger man’s arms. Calmer now that the other man was gone and it was just him and his brother once more. Just him and his mate…

He made a soft sound of protest when Sam pulled away slightly in order to speak. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want Sam to talk either. He just wanted to savor the taste and feel of the younger man. He just wanted to forget about the pain. He wanted to forget the fear from when Sam had left him.

Sam was safe with him again, that was all that mattered.

Though when Sam moved to touch his arm, Dean couldn’t help the slight flinch away from it. His arm hurt and he didn’t want it touched. But a part of him listened, struggling to understand what Sam was saying. Take care of… Sam wanted to take care of him, he trusted Sam…

So Dean hesitantly turned to offer the younger man his wounded arm. 

* * *

Sensing that Dean hadn’t wanted him to pull away, Sam kept himself close to Dean. He ran his hand over his brother’s face as he waited for his decision. He hoped Dean understood.

“I know it hurts,” he said gently, taking the arm Dean finally offered. He looked at his brother’s shoulder, sloped and clearly out of joint. Having gone through this before, he knew well how much pain Dean had to be in.

Slowly, he bent Dean’s elbow into a ninety degree angle with Dean’s hand on his stomach. “I’ll be as quick as I can,” he promised, knowing that just because that was his intentions, didn’t mean it would work out.

He started to tug downwards on Dean’s arm, pulling it toward the floor and rotating his arm at the same time. “Gonna be alright, just a little more,” he crooned, hoping Dean wouldn’t snap. He got that this wasn’t only Dean he was dealing with here. And yeah, he expected... believed his brother would rein in the wolf, but deep down he knew ... knew it could be beyond Dean’s control.

He pulled harder, slipped the joint into place... no... one more try, and he released the arm, letting Dean’s shoulder naturally slide into place. “There... should feel better,” he said, knowing the relief would be immediate. “Dean?” He looked into is face.

* * *

Dean didn’t flinch away when Sam touched his arm again, even though it hurt the way the younger man moved it. He couldn’t stop the small whimper of pain that escaped his throat, but he didn’t growl. Not even when Sam started tugging on his arm and Dean had to grit his teeth so hard it was a wonder none of them cracked to keep himself from crying out in pain.

He almost pulled away after the first tug, but Sam’s soft soothing voice kept him still. The part of him deep inside knowing that this had to be done, it was the only way to make the hurting stop, even though it hurt more now than before.

When the joint finally popped back into place on the third tug on his arm Dean simply couldn’t stop the hiss of pain that escaped through his teeth. When Sam finally released him he sagged back against the bars, breathing heavily and sweating. His eyes squeezed tightly closed and he didn’t open them again until the younger man said his name softly.

As he opened his eyes and his gaze locked with Sam’s, he tested his arm. It was sore, but didn’t hurt like before. Sam had fixed him. He offered the younger man a weak smile as he stepped closer to Sam and wrapped both arms around his brother’s tightly.

Better… yes, much better. With a soft purr he leaned into the younger man and captured Sam’s lips in a heated kiss. 

* * *

Sam watched intently as Dean rested against the bars, eyes closed. Was he trying to master the pain, or was he struggling with something else? When Dean opened his eyes and moving his arm, smiled, Sam nodded, smiling back. It was his brother... and he understood and...

Just like that, Dean was pressed up against him, his arms like steel bands around him, pulling him close. No words were exchanged, he knew what Dean wanted. Let it happen.

Mouth to mouth. Tongues darting in and out, twisting... dancing. Sam groaned, gripping Dean’s shirt, holding on as he gave as good as he got. He ran his tongue along Dean’s teeth, dipping inside to stroke his pallet, to map out every sweet hot corner, memorize his taste. He knew he should stop, that they should... but Dean was turning into an addition he really didn’t know yet how to control.

“Dean... Bobby...” he muttered against his brother’s lips, hoping one of them would see reason and pull away. “Should stop... oh God,” he felt Dean’s mouth against his throat, felt his heart slamming against his chest, so good... why was it so good between them? Even when he should be scared, should be cautious. What the hell was wrong with him? 

* * *

Dean licked inside his brother’s mouth and moaned, savoring the taste of his brother as he explored every inch of Sam’s mouth. His fingers tightening on the younger man’s lower back, pulling their bodies even closer together as Sam kissed him back. He allowed his brother’s tongue entrance into his mouth to explore him just as thoroughly, sucking on Sam’s tongue and moaning at the exquisite taste of his brother.

Sam… he could smell the younger man’s arousal. Even before his hands slid down further, underneath the back of his brother’s jeans to cup his ass and squeeze. Rubbing his stiffening cock against the younger man as he kissed and nipped a wet path from Sam’s lips to his neck. Growling softly as he bit and sucked, feeling Sam’s heartbeat under his tongue, knowing it was beating faster for him. His… Always his… his Sammy…

Stop? No, no he didn’t want to stop. Dean growled softly and bit down a little harder on the younger man’s neck. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted Sam now. Like this. Right here. Licking away the small indents his teeth had left on the younger man’s flesh he began to sink to his knees, tugging Sam down with him as he went. His hands leaving Sam’s buttocks and his mouth leaving Sam’s neck just long enough to yank off the younger man’s shirt over his head. He licked his lips hungrily as his eyes feasted on Sam’s bare chest.

He needed this now. After all the adrenaline and fear he needed this _right_ now. Dean all but ripped off his own shirt before he pushed Sam back, following him down and sealing his lips over the younger man’s again. Kissing him hard and deep as he pushed their chests together, grinding his hips down between his brother’s legs and growling in pleasure and need… and possession. Reminding Sam who he belonged to always. 

* * *

Strong hands gripping his ass, bringing him up hard against Dean’s frame, making it impossible for him not to register the hard proof of Dean’s arousal pressing... rubbing into him, as Dean slowly drove him nuts with those wet kisses and licks, his almost bites along the sensitive column of his throat. His entire body surged in response, pressing back. “This... this isn’t stopping,” he made a weak protest, not wanting to stop, not wanting Dean to pull away.

Maybe they could just get in a long, hot kissing session. Just like this. He’d hear the door open, he could pull away when necessary. That’s what Sam told himself even as Dean kept winding him up.

His suggestion that they needed to stop didn’t go over well. He felt Dean’s displeasure in that bite, his heart slamming against his chest as his hand moved up to confirm there was no broken skin. Sam’s fingers met Dean’s tongue, hot and wet, stabbing between his fingers as he continued to lick his neck. “Oh God... Dean.”

Before he could tell Dean this was going too far, his brother stripped him of his shirt and was staring at him with a hunger so deep, it took Sam’s breath away. “Dean... I”

It was as if his brother never heard him. One minute they were standing, and then next, he was dragged to the floor and Dean’s weight pressed down over him, their mouths melded in another mind melting kiss. His hands went to dean’s hips, moving up his bare sides as he lifted his hips, a groan tearing from the back of his throat as their jeans covered cocks dragged against each other.

The manhandling... the firm, insistent kisses... touches, the growls... Sam knew Dean was going ‘cave man’ on him. Proving who belonged to whom, as if there was a question. As if he couldn’t tell that Sam liked being mastered... needed it, needed it from his brother. Their mouths slid off each other, Sam panted out hot breaths against Dean’s ear. Feeling his brother’s hand move between them, to his fly, Sam grabbed his wrist. “Oh God... oh God, I want to Dean, I do ... but...”

* * *

Sam’s hand catching his wrist, the younger man stopping him from removing the offending fabric that kept his brother’s flesh from him, brought forth a snarl from the older man as he lifted his head. Dean’s eyes flashing in the dim light as they locked with his brother’s, narrowing slightly, as he shook off the hold and yanked down the zipper of Sam’s fly purposefully. His eyes never leaving Sam’s as he grasped the waistband of his brother’s jeans and underwear, tugging them down and off the younger man’s legs completely. Leaving Sam fully bare to his eyes and hands, to look and touch wherever he wished.

Dean licked his lips, watching Sam intently, as he unbuttoned and pushed his own jeans down his thighs. His cock springing up, hard, and already leaking at the tip. Not wasting a moment he grabbed Sam’s thighs and pushed them apart and pulling Sam closer to him at the same time. His fingers practically bruising, leaving matching marks on his brother’s skin as from earlier.

When he covered Sam with his body again there was nothing but skin on skin everywhere they met and Dean moaned as he dragged his hot throbbing flesh alongside his brother’s. He covered Sam’s lips with his own again and practically fucked his mouth with his tongue as their cocks slid together, trapped between them, leaving damp trails along each other’s skin.

“Sam…” He sighed his brother’s name when they finally parted. The first word that he’d spoken since Sam had first led him down here. 

* * *

  


The combination of a fierce snarl and flashing yellow eyes had Sam stilling. He didn’t fight as Dean pushed his hands away and practically tore off his clothes. Naked in front of him, he didn’t miss how laser focused Dean was on him... the heat in his gaze... the stare, like he couldn’t look away, like he was obsessed. Sam’s chest constricted. It was a form of obsession, it made him feel all sorts of hot being the object of Dean’s obsession.

His gaze dropped. He watched Dean’s hands work his own zipper and shove his pants down. So hard, his brother was so hard for him, it had Sam groaning at the thought of the possibilities. Licking his lips, he started to say something but was shoved back, his thighs forced open at the same time, and then Dean’s weight was pressing down on him.

He burned everywhere they touched, burned as Dean took his mouth, not allowing him to speak as he tongue fucked him senseless. Dean’s insistent thrusts had him hard and aching, throbbing against his brother. He hooked one arm around Dean’s good shoulder, raising his body, rubbing himself against his brother. God... he was gonna go nuts... no he was nuts, needing this, wanting it, letting his brother make so hard and needy at a time like this.

“Dean...” his brother’s scent was intoxicating. It triggered memories of every other time they’d mad love... fucked. It thickened his blood, made him groan against Dean’s mouth. “Shouldn’t... we shouldn’t...” But he knew... he knew right now, there was no stopping Dean if this is what Dean wanted.  
  
Then his brother said his name, sending a hot jolt of electricity right through him. He hadn’t been able to keep a part of him from wondering whether Dean really knew who he was with, wondered whether this was just an animal instinct. The whispered word had him kissing Dean, loving him for another moment, bursting with the knowledge that this wasn't just about Dean conquering another male, showing him who was alpha. It was about claiming him... Sam, and that was okay with Sam.

When he pulled his head back, he knew stopping wasn’t an option. He started to thrust upwards, fast. “Dean we gotta hurry, ok? We’ll do this, but have to be quick... Bobby could come back,” he bit his lower lip as each lift of his hips brought him a little closer to release.

* * *

Shouldn’t... Dean didn’t like that word. He didn’t like Sam denying him. But it was easy to ignore the words his brother spoke, especially when the younger man was begging for him in every other way. The way Sam clung to him rather than trying to push him away. The intense scent of the younger man’s arousal filling his senses. The way Sam moaned and whimpered in pleasure at his every touch, his every kiss. The hard heavy proof of the younger man’s desire rubbing against him, leaving wet burning trails along his skin.

No, Sam wanted this. As much as Dean wanted this. Sam needed this, needed him, as much as he needed Sam.

His brother’s smoldering kiss had Dean growling in pleasure and even though he knew he didn’t need the younger man’s spoken “permission” perhaps a part of him had been waiting for it anyway. Because as soon as the words were out of the younger man’s mouth, Dean didn’t hesitate. Grasping his brother’s hips with a low growl and pushing his brother’s legs up, holding him open, exposing Sam’s ass and his hole for him. He wondered if Sam would still be wet for him from when he’d claimed him before. Only one way to find out.

Dean pressed his cock against his brother’s opening and slowly thrust inside. Throwing his head back and growling low in his throat as the younger man’s tight heat surrounded him, and yes, still a little wet from when he’d filled his brother with his seed earlier. Hot and tight and wet. Perfect...

“Sammy...” The elder man purred his brother’s name as he began to fuck Sam slowly and deeply. Drawing out his cock till barely the head remained and filling the younger man up to the hilt again and again. Letting Sam feel every inch of him. He gripped Sam’s hips hard to keep his brother from speeding up his pace because he didn’t want quick. He didn’t want to “hurry”. He wanted to fuck Sam open on his cock all the way till morning. 

* * *

The way Dean kneeled and suddenly pulled his legs over his shoulder, lifted him… the way he stared for a moment at his now very exposed hole had Sam’s stomach tightening, and his cheeks reddening. Yeah they’d done it all, but he wasn’t used to the blatant stares directed at his privates when he could barely move. His brother’s growl warned him against trying to cover up or move, so he did the next best thing… shut his eyes.

Then he felt Dean, hot and heavy, pressed against his hole. He barely registered that his brother wasn’t going to prepare him, got half his name out in a gasp, and then Dean was inside him. All the way. Sam bit back a groan. It hurt, but not like he’d expected. Maybe he was getting used to this… or he was still stretched from earlier or…

Dean started fucking him. Hard and slow, filling him completely. Reaching out, Sam gripped Dean’s thighs, fingers digging into hard flesh as he lifted his hips to meet his brother’s thrusts. Oh God… His eyes opened when Dean said his name, locking with Dean’s intense green/yellow gaze. The heat in his his eyes burned clear through to his soul, to his core.

Low grunts escaped both of them. The pace Dean set was sheer torture, making Sam want more, making him need it… making him afraid they’d be at this for too long, get caught. He tried not to make any demands, to submit. A sheen of sweat covered Sam’s body. “Dean… Dean,” he cocked his head to the side, starting to raise his hips, to force his brother to give him more. “Please Dean… we gotta…” White hot heat coiled lose in his stomach, had Sam panting for breath. “We gotta… Faster. Dean!” Exasperated, tortured, and scared of the consequences, he struggled against Dean’s strength, trying to push him back if that was what took. 

* * *

Dean growled softly in approval the way Sam gripped him, the way his brother moved against him so eagerly, the pleasure and need he could clearly read in the younger man’s eyes when they locked with his own. He knew what Sam wanted. Knew what Sam needed. He knew that Sam wanted it faster, harder, but that was not what Dean wanted. He wanted Sam writhing and begging and moaning beneath him. He wanted to feel his brother coming undone beneath him, his body tightening around him as he fucked Sam to orgasm again and again, only finally spilling hot and deep inside the younger man when it became more pain than pleasure.

Sam twisting and pushing against him, begging for more, amused Dean for a while and he started angling his thrust to push more firmly against the sweet spot deep inside his brother. However his amusement began to fade quickly when the younger man started pushing against him in earnest, almost as though to push him away, and Dean stilled all of his movements with a low growl deep in his throat.

He glared hard at the younger man for a few moments, his fingers now bruising tight on Sam’s hips to keep him from moving, before he finally moved again. Only to pull out of his brother completely, leaving them both unsatisfied. He hissed at the loss of that tight heat around his cock as he pushed Sam’s legs off his shoulders, wasting no time grasping his brother’s hips again and flipping the younger man over onto his stomach. Pulling Sam’s ass into the air with one hand while his other pushed at the back of his brother’s neck. Putting Sam into the position he wanted as he lined himself up again with Sam’s tight hole and slowly pushed back inside.

Once he was buried to the hilt inside of his brother, Dean’s hips stilled, letting his hands roam soothingly up and down the length of the younger man’s back. Waiting. And then finally giving his brother a slight thrust, guiding him with his hands to indicate that Sam should start moving, should start fucking himself on his cock, while he remained still. 

* * *

Each time Sam pushed at Dean, his brother barely budged. Despite the heat in Dean’s eyes, his displeasure at Sam’s arguments was not hidden. Hell, if Sam had any sense, he’d take that stare as a warning, shut the fuck up and just let Dean to what he wanted. If it weren’t for Bobby, he would... because he wanted this as bad as Dean, wanted it to go on. But...

Then the decision was taken out of his hands. Dean withdrew from his body, before Sam was ready for him to. He whimpered, need still riding him like a bitch. “Please... just finish—“ he started, hearing the sound is brother made too, knowing Dean couldn’t be done. Fearing he was that pissed... so pissed he’d leave them both wanting.

Hard hands gripped him, turned him over like he weighed nothing, repositioned his large body with ease, proof of the tightly leashed power of the wolf. If Dean ever lost control...

Sam’s heart beat harder as his brother’s hand slid possessively over his skin, over his back, pushing his neck down to the ground while pulling his ass up in the air. “Oh God... Dean,” he bit his lower lip hard, tasting blood as his insides went liquid in anticipation. “Hurry.”

He didn’t know whether Dean registered his pleas. His brother seemed bent on following his own time line. Then gripping him harder, Dean sank into him again, like he had every right over him, like he owned him, like he was the one who’d decide how fast, how hard, when they’d start and end. A groan tore from the back of Sam’s throat as he was filled and Dean’s heavy dick scraped over that spot inside him that drove him nuts. “Please...” he tried to turn his head but was prevented. “Please Dean... oh God.”

Did he hear him? Again, Sam was unclear, but all he knew was that he was allowed to move... that he could fuck back against Dean. At first, he moved slowly, getting used to the position. Oh God, heat spread through him each time he clenched around his brother, each time his ass banged against Dean’s hips. Harder. Faster. Arms straining, biceps bulging as he pushed against the floor, using it to help him get the pressure he needed. So hard. So fast. So fucking frustrating when Dean didn’t move... “Goddamit, please,” he pleaded again, riding Dean’s cock, knowing how much better it would be once Dean started to thrust. “Fuck me... fuck me Dean. I’m yours. I need you. Need to fuck... Please!” his voice rose dangerously high with his growing desperation.

* * *

Dean gently squeezed his brother's hips as Sam started to move. He growled encouragingly in his throat as the younger man pushed back against him, taking his cock deep, squeezing tight around him. As he watched where their bodies were joined, watched himself slide smoothly in and out of his brother's tight hole he slid his hands possessively all over Sam's body. He caressed the younger man's hips, back, shoulders, and neck. Sometimes letting his fingers comb through and pet Sam's hair in approval, his near constant growling moans letting his brother know how good it was.

He was close now. Just as close as Sam. When the younger man began begging again, not for him to go faster or slower, just for him, Dean finally began to move again. His hands once more found themselves on Sam's hips to steady the younger man while he began to snap his hips forward hard. Fucking Sam hard and fast, just like his brother wanted. Filling Sam deep and making sure his dick rubbed over his brother's sweet spot inside, knowing he was hitting it every time by the increasing volume of Sam's moans of pleasure.

"Sammy…" Dean hissed between his teeth, throwing his head back and nearly howling as he was quickly pushed over the edge. His cock pulsing deep and hard into his brother's body, feeling his come leaking out of the younger man's hole around his dick as he continued to move, fucking Sam through his orgasm.

And that was when he heard the footsteps approaching the basement door and the concerned voice from the top of the stairs.

"Sam? Everything all right?"

* * *

When Dean gave in, gave him what he wanted, Sam started to grunt and moan his pleasure. He couldn't help it, the more he tried to hold it in, the more impossible it became. "Yes, oh God Dean, yes," he muttered, saying other things, hardly making sense, only knowing that if Dean stopped, he was going to fucking die... or kill him, one or the other. White light flashed behind his eyelids each time Dean rammed into him, fucking him so hard if Dean hadn't been holding him up, Sam would have been pushed forward or to the ground.

His brother called his name so fucking sweet, it brought Sam to the edge. Then Dean's moan turned more animalistic, a sharp reminder his brother was a predator now. Did that stop Sam from wanting more? Hell no, he couldn't help it, couldn't help being turned on by the knowledge of how much danger he was in, and how much effort Dean had to... he had to be putting into keeping him safe from himself.

As Dean came deep inside him, Sam started to come too, but Bobby's voice freaked him out. "Oh God... Dean," he tried to pull away, even though his body was giving the opposite message, and Dean... Dean wasn't listening... was insistently trying to get him to come. Gritting his teeth, Sam fucked back against his brother, Bobby's second call barely penetrating through the haze of his mind. "Fine... we're fine... Bob...by."

Grabbing his cock, Sam stroked hard, fast... bringing himself over despite the fear in his gut. Ropes of cum shot out of him with such pressure, it was as if he hadn't come just a few hours earlier. He whimpered, said Dean's name softly, slowing his movements as what he'd feared was an insatiable need dampened, allowing him to relax. "Fine!" he shouted again, dropping flat onto the ground, exhausted and praying he wouldn't have to dive for his jeans.

* * *

Dean growled and purred soft encouragements as he fucked into Sam with determination, completely uncaring of the interruption of the hunter’s voice. Ignoring Sam’s words as well. His fingers remained tight on Sam’s hips, pulling his brother back onto his cock as he continued to pound into him trying to bring the younger man to orgasm. He knew Sam was close, he could feel it in the tightening of Sam’s muscles around him, and he could smell it on his brother’s skin. So close, so very close… so good…

As Sam finally came undone under his hands, Dean moaned unashamedly as his brother’s body clenched around him like a vice. Giving him pleasure even though he’d already come. The smell of Sam’s seed, his sweat, was intoxicating. Perfect. Dean continued to thrust gently into the younger man’s clenching hole as Sam shook and whimpered beneath him, only stilling when his brother finally collapsed boneless beneath him.

Dean gently pulled out of the younger man then with an almost regretful sigh. He thought he heard the man upstairs say something else, some confirmation, before the footsteps started moving away from the door again, but he didn’t really care. All he cared about was right here with him. Sammy. His Sammy. His brother. His lover. His mate.

He slid his hands possessively over the trembling sweat slick muscles from Sam’s ass, up his back, to his shoulders. Purring contentedly as he licked a long wet path up the length of his brother’s spine before laying down over the younger man’s body. Pressing his chest to his lover’s back and throwing his legs over Sam’s as he wrapped his arms tightly around the younger man.

“Sam…” Dean purred his brother’s name again contently, licking and then nuzzling against the back of the younger man’s neck. 

* * *

Sam struggled against the urge to grab his pants and get decent. His heart was beating out of control, his body was exhausted... relaxed way more than it should be. And then his brother blanketed him, all of him. His calloused palms moving over his sweat slicked skin, announcing who he belonged to... who made him sweat and quiver like this... who would allow to fuck him right under the nose of a crusty hunter.

His breaths panted out of him, he moved his head to the side, a soft smile playing on the corner of his mouth as he felt the wet licks and kisses. "You keep getting me all dirty, Dean. How many showers a day you think I can take?"

He lay there a while longer, letting Dean hold him, cover him, shelter him One good thing about this wolf thing... his brother was much more into snuggling. He'd have to mention that some time. The thought had him chuckling, his shoulders shaking under Dean's body which was starting to get heavier and heavier. "You asleep? Dean?" Feeling his brother stir, he smiled again. "Need to get dressed. And a kiss would be nice... after..." He started to try to pull himself up.

* * *

Dean closed his eyes, an occasional content sound escaping his throat as they laid there together on the floor. He was tired. He had been tired before because he had not slept, and now after making love to Sam twice, not to mention other things, he was exhausted.

He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep just like this. Their sweat cooling on their bodies, yet warm wherever they touched as he held his brother to him. Feeling the beat of his brother’s heart against his chest. Hearing his breaths. The smell of sex, and more importantly, Sam heavy in the air, lulling him into a calm blissful sleep.

He was nearly there when Sam began to speak again and started to move beneath him. Dean made a sound of complaint in the back of his throat but he still slid off Sam to the side, allowing the younger man up if he wished. Reluctantly letting his brother slip from his arms however his tired eyes followed Sam’s every movement where he laid. 

* * *

For a sec, Sam was worried Dean was going to be stubborn about this, but when he rolled slightly off, he sat up. He felt Dean’s gaze on him, leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. “Just gotta get dressed.” Staring into Dean’s eyes, he noticed that he looked a little less like he was under the spell of his wolfy nature… more of old Dean in there. “It’s almost morning,” he whispered.

Moving away, he cleaned up as well as he could. Good thing he had an extra over shirt that he didn’t need to wear. He chatted about nothing in particular as he got dressed, knowing Dean was listening, though unsure of how much of it he actually understood. As he pulled his zipper up, he noticed Dean was watching his hand, and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable…”

A smile tugged at his mouth, as he walked over and used the shirt to wipe Dean off too, though his brother wasn’t as badly off as he’d been. “Pull your pants up, dude. Before,” he nodded toward the stairs. “Are you… _back_?”

* * *

Dean smiled when Sam leaned down to kiss him softly. His eyes flickered briefly to the window when the younger man mentioned it being almost morning before locking on his brother once more. They followed Sam’s every movement with interest, even though they were tired. His eyes only half open really while he watched Sam pulling on his clothes.

When Sam caught him watching him zip up his jeans, Dean grinned but he didn’t look away. His eyes remaining fixed on his brother as Sam came over to him and started wiping him off. A soft sigh of contentment escaping his lips feeling Sam’s hands on him again even if they were more “business” like than anything right now.

Dean followed Sam’s gaze to the stairs briefly before looking back at his brother. The younger man’s words taking a moment to process before he finally looked down at himself and obediently pulled his jeans and shorts back up, tucking himself away. Though he left the jeans unbuttoned.

Once he was finished he yawned hugely and reached out to grasp Sam’s wrist, tugging his brother down to lay with him once more. He wanted to sleep and he wanted Sam with him. 

* * *

“Dean!” Sam let out a mock long-suffering sigh as he hit the floor and repositioned himself to lean against the wall. “Alright…” His eyes fell on Dean’s jeans. He didn’t know why he felt self conscious, but he did, as he leaned down and buttoned them for his brother. It didn’t help that Dean kept watching his every move, either, though he seemed way to relaxed to ‘want’ anything more.

“Here,” he pulled at Dean, indicating for him to put his head on his lap. “You didn’t really get any sleep, did you?” He wasn’t expecting an answer as he brushed his hand over Dean’s face and neck, up and down, thinking about the night. “Everything started off well, didn’t it?”

He took a breath, “well, not really, since you were pissed. But after… when we…” his lips curved up into a smile, “… talked and in bed.” He nodded, not knowing how the hell Dean had talked him into more sex. Talked? Hell, he hadn’t opened his mouth. “Don’t tell your ‘other self’ this, but you’re kinda hot when you go all ‘strong, silent type’ on me.”

That was probably all wrong, but what the hell… in for a penny, in for a pound and all that shit. “It kinda went south, after,” he nodded again, mostly speaking to himself, still stroking Dean, thinking he’d fall asleep. “Had to be done, though.” His jaw clenched. Closing his eyes, he tried to fight the images of the dead bodies. He really should be helping Bobby with that. “Didn’t have a choice. They shot first.” Then why did it sound so lame?

* * *

Dean hadn’t resisted Sam buttoning up his jeans, or when the younger man readjusted him once his brother was sitting down. Shifting until his head was comfortably pillowed in Sam’s lap, the older man let out a sigh and closed his eyes when his brother’s fingers began to gently run over his face and neck. A low content sound almost like a purr escaping his throat as he gently nuzzled against the younger man’s thigh.

He was drifting off quickly now, relaxed and sated. Though he wasn’t so far gone yet that he didn’t notice the change in the younger man’s voice, or the tension in his body.

Dean slit his eyes open, looking up at the younger man with an expression of nothing but love and trust. Turning his face into the tender hand petting him, he nuzzled and kissed Sam’s palm. Finding Sam’s other hand with his own and bringing it to his chest as he twined their fingers together over his heart.

He closed his eyes again then, drifting off to sleep. 

* * *

He was ready to wallow in his thoughts, when Dean looked up at him, like he understood. Sam half expected him to speak, to give him some words of comfort. That didn’t come, but when Dean kissed his palm... of the hand that pulled the trigger, he had to wonder if that was what was intended. And then Dean took his other hand, and pulled it to his heart, and Sam thought that was the most romantic thing.

His throat constricted. He tried to clear it, looking down as his brother, watching him slowly slide into a deep sleep. Strong and silent, and romantic... he just might come to like Dean like this.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his own eyes. He didn’t think he’d get any sleep, not after everything that happened. But he was wrong.

*

A creaking sound woke him. He forced his eyes open and saw that sunlight was shining through the narrow window at the top of the basement wall. “Bobby,” he said groggily. The elder hunter had just reached the bottom of the stairs when Sam belatedly thought about their position. “Dean!” he hissed, shaking his brother.

* * *

Bobby had waited two hours after sunrise before deciding it was now or never. He hadn’t heard a peep from the basement for hours, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a very bad thing. It was one of the hardest things he’d done walking away from that cage earlier, Sam locked inside with his brother who’d gone at least partially wolf.

Dean glaring at him with yellow eyes, growling and baring his teeth… he would just as soon forget that memory, but he knew he never would. The only reason Bobby had gone was because it was obvious his presence had been upsetting Dean, and it was just as obvious that on some level the young man _knew_ Sam, even if he didn’t know Bobby. He had to trust that would keep Sam safe, because taking the younger man out of that cell was obviously not an option. At least not without shooting Dean in the process…

Of course it hadn’t helped his nerves any when he started to hear the… noises… coming from the basement not long after. The only thing that had kept him upstairs instead of rushing down with his gun drawn was the reaction Dean had before to Bobby. Sam’s reassurance that everything was “fine” hardly comforted him. It certainly hadn’t sounded “fine” but he simply had to trust that Sam would tell him if there was some kind of trouble. He reminded himself that Dean was obviously injured when he tried to get out of the cell earlier, and the… moaning… he heard was probably due to that.

Bobby had gone outside after that so he wouldn’t hear any more, though he didn’t move any further away from the porch, wanting to be able to hear if Sam _did_ call for help. He’d watched the sun rise over the trees and waited as long as he was willing to before finally going back into the cabin. The older hunter started some coffee brewing and then headed for the basement, praying that he would fine both boys safe and Dean back to normal.

Everything he knew about werewolves told him what happened last night shouldn’t have happened. Werewolves were only supposed to turn during the full moon. The rumors that they could sometimes change at other times were just that, rumors, but given what he’d seen last night… Damn it, how were they supposed to know when to lock Dean up then? Had it happened at random? Or had it somehow been to do with the hunters showing up on their doorstep not long after? It seemed too much a coincidence to ignore that possibility. Maybe Dean had sensed them somehow and the adrenaline rush combined with it being so close to the full moon made him change.

Then again, there had been some talk that there might be different _species_ of werewolves. Just like there were different “breeds” of dogs and wolves, maybe there were different breeds of Werewolves too. He’d heard some hunters argue that shape shifters were just a different kind of werewolf, or vice versa. Sure there were obvious differences but the fact that silver killed both and the changing forms was too similar to completely rule out the theory. Maybe shape shifters were just a more “advanced” version of the curse. Maybe there were some breeds of werewolves that the curse affected differently. Some only able to change during the moon, others able to change at will.

Hell, there had even been talk that Lycanthropy was originally not a curse at all, but considered a blessing. Being able to change into a form of a wolf, it didn’t sound all that bad. But over the years something, or someone, fucked up big time and the blessing had become a curse instead. But, again, that was all just talk among hunters. Usually talk that happened in a bar after one too many rounds, so it was hard to put much truth to any of it. It’s not like any of them took the time to study werewolves up close and personal. Silver bullet to the brain and heart, that was about as much thought any of them cared to give to werewolves.

Bobby had thought much the same… until he learned Dean had become one.

Whatever he’d been expecting to see when he came down the stairs, he wasn’t quite sure the sight that greeted him was one of them. Dean lying curled up around Sam’s legs with his head in the younger man’s lap, both of them out cold and snoring softly, it was both comforting and strangely… disturbing. Given what he’d heard earlier… no, not possible.

Sam began to stir at the creek his boot made on the last step, ever the hunter even after being out of the game so long, and Bobby offered the boy a tight smile. The younger man’s obvious embarrassment would have made him laugh under any other circumstance, instead, Bobby’s hand remained on the butt of his gun as Sam shook his brother awake.

“What…” Dean’s cranky groggy reply as he swatted at his brother’s hand, blinking blearily up at the younger man, was just about the best thing Bobby had heard since he first heard the news about Dean. Even better was the lack of golden sheen to the younger man’s green eyes. Bobby let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding as he fished the key to the cage out of his pocket.

 

* * *

Sam had shaken his head as Bobby’s hand went to his gun, but Dean’s reaction to his trying to wake him had him letting out a breath of relief. Dean was back. And Bobby was staring at them. Great.

He cleared his throat, smiling slightly at the older man. “Guess we were loud... with the snoring... I mean, the snoring was all Dean.” Yeah that was hardly what he was embarrassed about as he practically shoved Dean off him. “Dude... quicker you get up, quicker you can sleep in a comfortable bed.”

Even on the bar floor, no pillows, nothing... Sam had been more comfortable than he could have imagined. It was like his brother’s nearness made him feel secure. Though his _slowness_ right now was annoying. “Up,” he repeated, grabbing a bar on the cell and pulling himself up.

He shook his legs out, complaining under his breath about Dean needing to lose some weight... anything to maybe stop Bobby from asking questions. Even silent ones, with those all seeing eyes of his.

“Everything alright? I’ll go take care of...” he jerked his chin toward the stairs. He knew Bobby would have started but Sam might need to finish up the burying, or getting of other evidence.

* * *

At first Dean had absolutely no idea what was going on as Sam shoved him unceremoniously off him. He felt more asleep than awake, his thoughts fuzzy like his head was full of cotton, and he had a pounding headache to boot which wasn’t helping him concentrate either.

“What the fuck, Sam!” Dean grumbled in annoyance, glaring at his brother, having no idea what Sam was talking about before he realized that the younger man wasn’t talking to him at all.

Dean swung his gaze over to Bobby and he wasn’t sure what surprised him more. The look of obvious relief on the older hunter’s face or the fact that Dean was looking at Bobby through bars.

After that though, everything pretty much clicked into place. If he was locked up in this cage, then that meant he had changed. Somehow... just like before... even though it wasn’t the full moon. The fact that Sam was locked in here _with_ him though...

Dean’s gaze swung back to Sam and he was caught between feeling so much fear and anger all at once he practically choked on he emotions. What the fuck was his brother thinking?! Locking himself up in here with him when he was...

But either Bobby sensed how he was going to start to lay into Sam and chose that moment to distract him, or both Sam and the older man were simply oblivious to him right now, as Bobby answered Sam’s question as he unlocked the cage door.

“I got one grave taken care of. Still need to take care of the other two and the vehicles. I put some coffee on upstairs. If you and Dean go and take care of the other two graves, I’ll see to getting rid of the vehicles and making some breakfast.” Bobby said, not really waiting for the other men’s response before he headed back upstairs. Hanging the key back on the nail on the wall by the stairs. Dean could only stare after him, his mouth hanging open a little in shock before he turned back to Sam.

Well, he didn’t feel tired anymore. In fact, he felt a little ill.

“Sammy? What the hell?” Dean asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

* * *

"Okay," Sam whispered, nodding as Bobby brought him up to speed as to what was left to be done. He was glad that the hunter walked out, leaving them behind to talk. Not that he was sure what to say to Dean who stood there, frozen.

He knew it wouldn't last. Didn't. And then his brother was asking him what the hell was going on. He ran his hand through his hair, looked up and felt like Dean's gaze pierced him clear though his soul.

"We had... company." He took a deep breath. "Hunters. They... ah... guess they tracked us. They weren't asking questions or knocking, either. They just..." he nodded, recalling the night's events. "They were just shooting. We had no... _choice._." He started to get choked up so he headed for the door, swinging it open and trying to get the hell outta there.

* * *

Hunters… They had to be the same ones that had cornered Sam not once, but twice. The same ones that had threatened the younger man, trying to make Sam give him up. They had tracked them down here. How, probably didn’t really matter right now. The fact that they had come here, charged in “guns blazing”, that mattered…  
  
And now they were dead. Three graves. Three dead hunters. Dead because of him… He was right, he hadn’t wanted to know, and now that knowledge was twisting in his gut making him want to vomit.

But whatever guilt Dean might have felt knowing that the hunters had died because of him, because they were hunting him, because he was a monster… it had to be nothing compared to what Sam was feeling. Because his brother had been the one forced to pull the trigger.

Sam had barely looked at him as he told Dean the very abbreviated version of what had happened, and Dean really didn’t need to hear anymore. Sam wasn’t saying anything more though. His brother practically choked on his own words, and then started for the door. Running away… either from him or from the guilt, and Dean reacted without thinking.

He crossed the distance between them in only a few steps and caught the younger man’s wrist before Sam could flee. He pulled Sam to him and held him. He wasn’t going to let Sam torture himself over this. He knew that was easier said than done. Dean would be doing plenty of that to himself later on, but right now his only concern was Sam.

“You didn’t have a choice.” Dean echoed the younger man’s words softly but firmly as he cradled his brother against him.

* * *

Sam was unable to pull out of Dean’s iron grip. Taking a deep breath, he answered woodenly, “I know.”

He didn’t want to be comforted, dammit. He wanted to hurt. It was fair that he should hurt. Even if it had been them or us, even if there had been no other choice, it didn’t mean he should just be able to say those words, and walk away from what he’d done.

Resting his chin on his brother’s shoulder, telling himself that he was doing this, letting Dean hold him... for Dean. He’d try harder not to let his feeling show. He knew that Dean would eventually take all this onto his own shoulders, and that included whatever Sam was going through. By the time his brother was done, it would be all about Dean being a wolf... Dean’s fault, and Sam couldn’t... wouldn’t have that.

“They should have left us alone. They knew the risks when they shot,” he forced the words out, trying not to envision their faces in death. “Let’s... let’s finish this.”

Pulling away again, he hooded his eyes slightly, but moved faster to the door. 

* * *

He supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him, shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did when Sam pulled away from him again, refusing to accept his comfort. It did surprise him, however, and it did hurt. A lot. Like a slow crushing weight on his chest. But then, why should Sam accept any comfort he tried to offer? It was because of Dean that his brother was now a murderer…

It was because of him that Sam was here instead of back at Stanford, in school, with a nice apartment, and girlfriend. It was because of him that Sam had been forced back into this life, away from all the “normal” that his brother had left them for. It was because of him that Sam was now in an incestuous “relationship” with his own brother, and hell, Dean wasn’t even fully human anymore either. That was about as fucking far away from normal as he could get.

Dean tried to recall their talk from last night. When Sam had chosen him, told him he wanted this between them, wanted him… but that was before Sam had been forced to kill three men to protect him. He had killed _hunters_ to save a _werewolf_. Dean would have done the exact same thing if their positions were reversed, without regret. But Sam wasn’t him, and Sam certainly hadn’t signed up for this.

That’s why Dean merely stood there instead of trying to reach for the younger man again when Sam practically ran for the basement stairs. Like he was trying to get as far away from him as he could, and who could really blame him? Dean couldn’t, no matter how much it hurt.

Dean walked slower to the door of the cage door but paused before going through it. After only a moment’s hesitation he pulled the door closed and locked it, taking the key and putting it in his pocket before moving to the back wall and sitting down. He was right where he belonged. 

* * *

Sam was out of there like a shot. Upstairs, he refused coffee and just asked Bobby where the bodies were, and headed out. The sooner they got this done, the better. Maybe he could put it behind him then. Maybe not.

Bobby had left shovels next to the two bodies. Grabbing on, he started to dig. And dig. And dig. Memories floated in his mind. Grave digging with his dad and Dean. Usually it was to find an old body and put the soul to rest. A couple of the times… Yeah, he’d known something was off about the death when one of the older Winchesters would tell him to beat it, so he wouldn’t have to be there. They thought he didn’t see, but he saw everything. Knew they were protecting him from the truth. Sometimes they weren’t able to save everyone. And sometimes there were casualties. And some of those casualties could even be from ‘friendly fire.”

He should be strong. Should harden his heart. Should be like John Winchester… everything he never wanted to be. A hunter. A person who believed the ends justified the means. Someone who could put _this_ … someone who could just say _this_ was in a days work, and be able to push it down so far inside himself, he wouldn’t think of it.

But he wasn’t John. He wasn’t even Dean, who Sam knew felt a lot more than he showed. The thought of his brother had him stopping, leaning on the shovel and looking in the direction of the cabin. He’d been sure Dean would grab coffee and show up. Then he’d thought maybe Dean realized he needed a little alone time and was giving it to him. But now…. Now when he was done with one grave, and part way into the second, he didn’t know what to think.

Peeling off his sweaty shirt, he tossed it onto a branch and picked up the shovel again. Maybe he was helping Bobby with the hunters’ vehicle. That was probably it. So what if he wasn’t here… it’s what Sam wanted, right? He looked back to the cabin, cursed under his breath and worked faster.

His muscles started to ache. Sweat covered his brow. The physical pain helped, made him focus, kept his mind off the questions that kept threatening to surface about who these men were. No, he wasn’t gonna look at their identification cards. Real or not, that would lead to more torture. More guilt. More wondering about the families they may have left behind.

When he finally finished digging, he tossed the shovel out of the hole and hopped out. Water would have been nice. He grabbed one of the bodies by the legs and pulled it close to the hole, rolling it inside. Yeah, it would have been easier to dig just one hole for both men, but easy wasn’t what he wanted. What he deserved.

After he got the second body into its grave, he took the sack of salt Bobby had left leaning against the tree and poured some into the graves. Some Kerosene followed and he burned the bodies. They didn’t need to deal with any angry spirits.

Tossing the first shovel full of dirt over the burned bodies was the hardest. His throat convulsed. He’d thought he’d beat this… thought he was in control of his emotions, but he’d been wrong. _Dean?_ No, he wasn’t running to big brother over this, Dean had enough to deal with. For once, it was Sam’s job to protect Dean, and he was gonna do it… do it right.  


* * *

Bobby gave a heavy sigh as he watched Sam rush out of the basement, past him holding a mug out to the younger man without barely giving him a look, and then he was out the door like a bat out of hell. He didn’t try to stop the younger man, the older hunter didn’t think he would be able to say much to Sam that was going to comfort him through this shit storm. He’d let Sam try to deal with it on his own first, and then step in if he needed to. Though he did wonder just what part of last night had Sam so upset. Killing those men, or… something else…

Bobby felt a sick kind of twisting in his stomach, not wanting to imagine what that “something else” might be. Having watched Dean nuzzle against his younger brother like some kind of bitch in heat and then the noises later…

The older hunter shook his head slightly to clear it and took a long drink from his coffee, seriously considering spiking it with something a bit stronger than milk and sugar.

It took Bobby a few minutes to realize that Dean had not come up the basement stairs with his brother. Any other time those boys had been practically joined at the hip. Where Sam went, so did Dean and vice versa. He knew that when Sam had left his family things had to have changed, that they hadn’t even been in contact for a long time but… especially since Sam was obviously upset, he just couldn’t see Dean leaving him to his own devices. Letting him take care of that damned mess outside on his own especially when… no it wasn’t Dean’s fault, but then again, it was. At least the older boy would think it was…

Fuck.

Sighing heavily and running a hand through his thinning hair, telling himself that these damned Winchesters might just be the reason for him losing his hair too, he made his way down into the basement. Dean was there, of course. Seeing him sitting in that cage, looking like a whipped dog, with the door obviously shut and locked made Bobby’s heart constrict more than a little. The older hunter wondered briefly if Sam had locked him in there and left… no. Sam hadn’t even wanted to leave Dean down here alone even when he was wolfed out, he wouldn’t leave him in there like this now.

Besides, if Sam had done that the boy would have left the key on the nail by the door at least, and Bobby didn’t see it anywhere. He’d lay odds that Dean had it, and Bobby sighed again, and he wasn’t sure if it was in more aggravation or worry.

“What the hell are you doing, boy?” Bobby asked, when Dean didn’t look up or answer him he was quickly becoming more annoyed with the boy than anything, even though he was still worried. “So you’re just going to wallow down here and let Sam take care of those bodies of men he killed defending you?”

That got a reaction, Dean actually flinched like he’d been physically struck, and Bobby instantly felt guilty but if Dean wasn’t going to pull his head out of his ass by himself… Dean finally looked up to meet Bobby’s eyes and again the older man wondered if this had anything at all to do with those hunters Sam was burying and not… something worse… if that was possible.

“As long as I’m here, I can’t hurt anyone… he doesn’t need to stay. I’m not going to hurt him anymore, Bobby.” Dean finally said, his voice barely above a whisper, and Bobby honestly wasn’t sure what to say. Not with the thoughts running around in his head, all the possible meanings those words could have… Maybe he should have put a bullet into Dean last night after all…

Bobby didn’t say anything more, he simply turned and walked back up the basement stairs, shutting the door behind him. He sat at the table where his coffee mug still sat but he didn’t pick it up again. He was afraid if he moved at all he was going to do something that he would regret and hate himself for the rest of his life. 

* * *

Sam used his tee shirt to wipe the sweat off him as he trudged back to the cabin. That had taken like forever, and then he’d sat there just a little while longer, centering himself. He didn’t want to send Dean around the bend, something that was too easy these days. One of them had to be calm. Right now, it had to be him.

Pushing the door open, he walked inside, nodding at Bobby who sat with a mug of something. He strode straight to the back of the cabin where the kitchen was and washed his face and splashed water on his chest, before once again using his shirt to wipe off. He’d swallowed some water too, because he couldn’t wait, but now he went to the bag of supplies and grabbed a water bottle.

Twisting the top off, he walked back to Bobby, wondering at the man’s silent regard. “Dean getting rid of their truck?” he asked, bringing the bottle to his mouth and getting an uneasy sensation in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

Bobby looked up when he heard the door open but he didn’t say anything as Sam made his way inside. Watching the younger man silently, studying him was probably a more accurate term. Trying to see some kind of... sign... a limp in his step, any sign of pain, marks... anything that might disprove, or god forbid, prove his suspicions. That Dean had... attacked... raped... his own brother last night.

Even saying the word in his head made Bobby flinch a little. Every bruise making him wonder just how he’d received it. If it had happened in a fight or if Dean had given it to him. Bobby’s stomach felt like it was going to heave its contents when Sam walked past him and he got a good look at the younger man’s back. Scratches... definitely not made by fingernails, but they were healing, and that just made the older hunger feel even more sick.

Had this happened more than once? How many times? Was Sam just _letting_ it happen? Like he’d let Dean nuzzle his neck while Bobby watched...

Bobby’s eyes trailed down the length of the younger man’s torso, and he was fairly certain he got a glimpse of fresh bruises on Sam’s hips when bent down to grab a water from a bag on the floor.

It took him a few moments to realize that Sam had spoken, had asked him a question... Dean... and that he was staring at the young man silently feeling like he was choking on every breath he took his throat was so tight. How was he supposed to ask something like this? Especially when he didn’t want to know the answer. When he didn’t want to face what the answer might be... But Bobby couldn’t just let this go on. Dean might not be “himself”, it might not be his “fault”, but that didn’t matter. He wouldn’t just let him...

“Last night, did Dean...” There was no gentle way to ask the question, so Bobby decided he wouldn’t even try. “Has your brother been raping you, boy?”

* * *

Sam choked on the water, sputtering as the liquid ran in a hundred directions and he stared at Bobby in shock. “What the hell, Bobby?” Internally, his stomach was an acid pool, fear mixing with worry and anxiety. What did the hunter think he knew? How much? How had he arrived at that conclusion?

Coughing again, and wiping his mouth, he didn’t look away. “How can you say that. It’s still Dean. DEAN, Bobby, and you know he wouldn’t do that…” he sliced his hand through the air in disbelieve. “You heard him last night, all that howling… it’s because he’s gotten protective … _protective._ He’d never hurt me…. And Jesus, not like that… what makes you even think that?” he demanded.

God, if Bobby thought that, he wouldn’t hesitate… he’d put a bullet through Dean so fast, there wouldn’t be time to blink. “Is it the scratches on my back?” That was the only thing he could think about. “He had a fever a couple nights ago, real bad. He started hallucinating and thought I was going to hurt him or something. Soon as I told him he’d hurt me, he stopped trying to lay me out.” He took a deep breath, “we figured out it was because of the silver ring he was wearing. Got it off him and … it hasn’t happened again.”

He started to pull a chair out, when a new fear seized him. Leaning toward the hunter, he demanded, “where is he? Where’s my brother?” 

* * *

Bobby stared hard at the younger man. Not really giving a rats ass at the moment about getting sprayed with spit water, he had bigger things to worry about right now. Like whether or not Sam was lying to him. Bobby had known this boy, both boys, for far too long for them to hide much from him. He probably knew them both better, in some ways, than their own father did. The younger man seemed genuinely shocked by his question, but he also looked afraid. What was Sam afraid of? That he would find out the truth?

No, he knew damned well that _Dean_ wouldn’t do anything like that to hurt his brother. Dean would kill himself first before allowing himself to hurt Sam that way. But people who went werewolf... they weren’t themselves anymore. He’d seen werewolves slaughter and eat the hearts of the people they loved, wives, husbands, children...

He wanted to believe that Dean’s instinct to protect his little brother would carry over when he wolfed out but... Guilt clawed in Bobby’s stomach alongside everything else, because if it was true than he’d allowed it to happen. He’d heard... and he hadn’t gone downstairs. Hadn’t stopped it. He’d let Sam...

Bobby wanted to believe Sam when the younger man explained to him how he’d gotten the scratches on his back. Maybe that was true, but it certainly didn’t explain what Bobby had heard last night and the fresh bruises on Sam’s hips. Before Bobby could say anything to that point, Sam was demanding where Dean was. The boy was still more concerned for Dean than himself even after...

The older hunter sighed and nodded towards the basement door.

“Downstairs. He’s locked himself in that cage, sayin’ you don’t need to stay, and he don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

* * *

“What?” His head whipped around toward the door to the basement. “He just stayed down there… this whole time? Alone?” Biting his lower lip, he turned back to Bobby. “You didn’t lock him in there?” He didn’t see any reason Bobby would lie about it. “He hates being tied up or caged, ever since…” his eyes closed for a minute, his hand clenching at his sides. “Since he was held in that place.”

Letting out his breath, trying to force himself to relax, he opened his eyes again, only to find Bobby still staring at him. “What, it’s true?” But he knew there was another question in the other hunter’s eyes. “I don’t know what he meant, but he has these… these mood swings. He can twist anything you say… like … I dunno, when I thought I might go to another motel to keep the hunters off his ass, he thought it’s because I think he’s a monster. I never said that. I never thought it. That was not my reason, but he was … hurt…” he shook his head. “So I dunno what he’s talking about NOW, but I’m gonna find out.” He started for the door.

* * *

  
Bobby wasn’t buying it.

But the sad truth was he _wanted_ to believe Sam. He wanted to trust that the younger man wouldn’t try to hide something like... this... from him. That Sam wouldn’t let Dean go on hurting him no matter what the reason. That Dean’s words hadn’t meant what he thought they meant. That the scratches and other marks on Sam’s body weren’t caused by what he feared.

Bobby knew the boys would do anything to protect each other, however. And the older hunter couldn’t... no matter what he wanted to believe... simply ignore something like this. He couldn’t simply just let it happen. No matter that Sam wanted him to ignore it. No matter that Dean wasn’t himself.

So when Sam started to walk towards the basement. To “find out” what Dean meant, or so he said, though Bobby could have let him simply go, he didn’t.

“How’d you get them bruises on your hips, Sam?” The older man forced himself to ask. 

* * *

Sam had taken a few steps, when he came to a complete stop at Bobby's question. Bruises on his hips... it figured, though he hadn't seen them, or even felt them with everything else going on.

When he turned to Bobby, his eyes burned with righteous anger. "I get you're worried and I know why, I'll give you that much. But Dean would _never_ do what you're thinking, and I'd never let him. Don't ask me again, not ever."

Turning on his heels, heart pounding in his chest he headed for the door, then walked down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he saw Dean, just sitting there. "What are you doing? Dean... unlock this door, get out here, come upstairs with me." His tone was low, even, but on edge. "I've had a bad morning, a worse..." he gestured toward Bobby upstairs, "and I don't think I can handle anymore drama, I really can't Dean."

* * *

Dean lifted his head when he heard the younger man’s footsteps coming down the stairs, but he didn’t move from his position sitting on the floor against the back wall of the cage. He remained exactly where he was, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms resting on them, watching Sam. Trying to ignore the younger man’s haggard appearance and his instinctual urge to go to his brother.

That was the last thing Sam needed, more reason to stay here. Hadn’t he fucked his brother up enough? Hadn’t he hurt him enough? Sam had been just fine before the younger man had come to “rescue” him from the werewolves. Sam had been happy... and now...

Of course he’d heard the “discussion” going on between his brother and the older hunter upstairs. It made him a little sick that Bobby had immediately jumped to the conclusion that he would do that to Sam... but then again, hadn’t Dean thought that of himself after the first time? He couldn’t really blame Bobby, and maybe it was better that Bobby thought that.

It would be easier to stay in here, where he belonged, if Bobby... or even their father, because Bobby would surely tell John his suspicions... thought he deserved to be locked up as well.

“I know...” Dean acknowledged softly his brother’s words. He knew the younger man was going through hell and it was all because of him. But as much as it would hurt him if Sam left, it would hurt Sam a lot more if he stayed and... “I think... you should go home.”

Dean hated the way he couldn’t stop his voice from breaking even though he tried.

“Bobby can take care of things.”

* * *

“Home. You want me to go home,” he nodded. “And where exactly is that Dean?” Sam’s nostrils flared. “Or weren’t you listening last night, huh? All of that... what you choosing to forget, or maybe it didn’t mean anything, is that it?” He slapped his hand on the bars. “I told you where my home is... now you tell me where to go, where’s my home... where... where is it Dean?”

Agitated, pushed beyond the edge, Sam kept repeating the question and hitting the bar... not caring who heard him. Was all this for nothing? Dean couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving before and now... now he didn’t want to be near him, why? “Where’s my home.... tell me... tell me,” he banged his forehead on the bars now. Maybe physical pain would drive away his other thoughts and hurts. 

* * *

Dean was really trying very hard to hold it together but Sam certainly wasn’t making it easy. Certainly not when Sam reminded him of last night before... everything had gone to hell in a hand basket. Again. Crushed was about the only way to describe his expression as he stared at the younger man hopelessly, having no idea how to answer, but Sam didn’t stop asking him the same question over and over.

“Sammy...” He tried, but it didn’t seem like his brother was listening to him now at all. When Sam started hitting the bars with his hands, and then his _head_ , that pretty much broke whatever will was left inside of Dean. He was on his feet and across the cage before he even realized it. Grabbing Sam’s hand through the bars and his fingers tangling in the back of his brother’s hair to hold him still, to stop the younger man from hurting himself.

“Stop it! Sam! Stop!” Dean demanded, looking into his brother’s eyes before he forced his closed before Sam could see him break again. His brother didn’t need to deal with that. He was dealing with enough. The elder man’s fingers gently pet through his brother’s hair as he pressed his forehead against Sam’s, sighing softly.

“I was listening. I didn’t forget. I’ll never forget... and you know damned well it meant everything to me, you mean everything to me.” Dean whispered, sliding his hand down to cup the back of Sam’s neck. “But last night, the hunters... its never going to stop, and I don’t... want you to have to do that again. For me... I just want you to be happy, Sammy. You were happy before all this, weren’t you?”

* * *

The instant Dean touched him, Sam started to calm down. His brother’s demand broke through the state he’d worked himself into, and he stopped hitting himself against the bars. Eyes locked with his brothers, he searched through to his soul.

“I don’t know that,” he countered, voice low and desperate. “You change your mind ALL the time Dean. One minute you can’t stand it if I’m not here and the next... you’re trying to get rid of me. Telling me to go _home_. What does that mean? You mean go back to Jess? After all this?” He looked up, his mouth almost touching Dean’s. “I don’t know if I was happy back then... back there. I know I was happy last night... I know I was happy even when I wasn’t sure that you knew what I was saying to you anymore. And I was happy this morning, because you were fine.”

He drew away. “But right now, I’m a little pissed off that you could ask me to leave. I’m a lot pissed off that you’re in this cage. I... last night, when I told you those things I was feeling, I wanted... I expected for there to be a _we_... you understand? You and I... _we._ An us against them, that’s what I was fighting for last night.”

He put his own hand through the bars, curling his fingers around the back of his brother’s neck. “If I really mean everything to you, show me. No... not by pushing me away,” he shook his head. “You know why last night was perfect in here? Because it _was_ you and me against the world, Bobby and everyone else be damned. You wouldn’t push me away, not for anything. Needed me, like I need you Dean. Why’s that so hard?”

He heard the floor creak above them. Tears stung his eyes. “Let’s just... let’s go away, you and me. Ditch Bobby, ditch dad... ditch everything.” He didn’t want to answer their questions, he just... if he could just get away from everything and have Dean with him, everything would be alright.

* * *

Sam’s words made his heart ache but it also pissed Dean off a little, his brother’s accusation that he changed his mind _all the time_.

“I have _never_ changed my mind about how I feel about you, Sam.” Dean almost growled, his eyes piercing the younger man with the most intense stare he could muster, as though that alone could burn the thought into his brother’s head. “I _can’t_ stand it if you’re not here. The thought of you leaving _kills_ me. I’ll _always_ want you with me, that will never change.”

Dean paused only a second to let that sink in because he knew that his brother was going to probably throw a fit from his next words.

“But the _situation_ keeps changing, Sammy. I only want what’s best for you, I only want you to be happy, to be safe, and don’t you fucking dare throw that back in my teeth, because I know you would want the same for me. You didn’t sign up for this. Killing other hunters…”

But even as he looked in Sam’s eyes though Dean could feel his resolve wavering, as always. His little brother had always seemed to be able to bend him around his little finger with barely any effort, and now was no different. Now it was even easier for Sam because Dean felt like he had no willpower at all when it came to his brother. He needed Sam. More than air. More than his own heart. Sam was his heart, and he knew wherever his brother went Dean wouldn’t be far behind.

He was only trying to protect Sam… his brother made it really fucking hard though.

“Where would we go?” Dean asked, and he felt so damned unsure and a bit lost right now. Just him and Sam… there was nothing in his mind wrong with that, he would be perfectly happy if it was just him and Sam always. Even if it meant… leaving their father behind… but if it was just him and Sam there would be nothing between Sam and the beast, the werewolf, inside of him either. “I’m still gonna change, Sammy… soon. Where would we go?”

* * *

He knew the reason Dean wanted him to go, he got that. And Dean was right, he'd probably be trying to cut Dean loose right about now, if he thought he was fucking Dean's life up. That didn't change a damned thing.

"I didn't sign up for a lot of things. Didn't sign up to fall for you. It happened." He took a shaky breath. "I don't think there's a way I can be _both_ safe and happy, Dean... it's too late for that. And you know, all my life you and dad tried to get me to be a hunter... not safe," he shook his head. "Let me be happy... just let me."

He thought Dean was relenting, the softening of the glint in his eyes, the slope of his shoulder, he was coming around. When Dean asked where they would go, Sam started to smile at what he took to be agreement. And then Dean reminded him he'd still change, that they'd need help, that there was nowhere for them to go right now.

_Where would we go?_

Here... if we'd found this place on our own. Somewhere like here? Somewhere with a cage that would hold. Before the next moon? Fucking pipe dream. Reality hit him between the eyes, making his chest constrict... making it hard to breathe. Sam moved his hand through the bars to Dean's hand on one of the bars, his fingers curling tightly around Dean's as tears started to roll down his cheeks. His lips parted, but no sounds came out. There were no answers.

* * *

Dean wasn’t exactly sure how to feel when Sam said he could never be both happy and safe. On one level it wounded him because Dean _wanted_ Sam to be safe. He didn’t want Sam to have to deal with hunters and werewolves and him becoming one, caught in the crossfire between all three. At the same time, hearing Sam say that he _was_ happy simply because he was with him…

Which was more important to him? That Sam was happy or safe? His brain told him one answer, his heart told him another.

Dean knew this was no time to point out to Sam that he and Dad had not tried to “push” Sam into being a hunter his whole life. In fact, when Sam was a kid he and dad had done everything they could to try to _hide_ the “family business” from his brother. It wasn’t until that Christmas Eve Dean remembered all too well when Sam admitted he’d stolen their father’s journal and read it.

Dad had been so pissed when he’d finally come “home” and found out about it. Dean had often wondered if Sam had never forced the issue if he and Dad would have continued to try and hide the truth from him. If Sam never would have had to see the ugly business of hunting…

Too late for that… yeah… too late for a lot of things.

Crushed… that was really the only word to describe as he watched the little flicker of hope in Sam’s eyes die and the sight of his brother’s tears hit him like a blow to the chest. He could never stand seeing Sam cry. Not when he was a baby and when Dean had held and rocked him all night when Sam had been teething, certainly not now.

“Don’t.” Dean whispered as he tugged on the back of Sam’s neck to draw his brother closer and kissed him softly. Gently massaging the younger man’s neck as he murmured comforting nonsense while brushing even softer kisses all over Sam’s face. Tasting Sam’s tears and feeling his own eyes sting more than a little. “Please don’t… After this, after the moon, we’ll go… just us, Sammy… just us.”

* * *

Closing his eyes, Sam accepted the kisses and comforting words. "I'm fine," he whispered softly, lying through his teeth. No, he wasn't lying. It was the truth, but for some reason it had all gotten too much. The killings... he thought he was handling that. Then Bobby's accusations, and Dean stuck behind bars... asking him to leave. "I'm sorry," he wiped his eyes and face with the back of his hand, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I know we will..." nodding, he aimed for Dean's lips and took another kiss, before leaning his forehead against Dean's and standing there.

Eyes locked with his brothers, he could see Dean's anguish. He'd been selfish, laying this on Dean who had enough troubles. "We'll get through this, I know we will. I shouldn't have... I just..." he licked his lips, knowing Dean understood him like no one else, he'd know how hard it was for him to bottle stuff inside like he'd been trying to do. "I can't stand seeing you on the other side of these," he said, gripping the bars. "Come out. Please."

Craning his neck toward the stairs, he looked back. "He's getting suspicious. He's thinking things that aren't... right." How could he tell Dean the accusations Bobby had leveled against him? But how could he not? What if Bobby caught Dean by surprise and Dean snapped?

* * *

Dean almost snorted when Sam said he was “fine”, but they both knew it was bullshit, and Sam certainly didn’t need it pointed out. He just kept touching and kissing Sam, showing his brother, like the younger man asked, how much he meant to him. His fingers gently pet through Sam’s soft hair when his brother kissed him again. He let his tongue play in the other man’s mouth gently, more tenderness than heat, before Sam drew back a little and rested his forehead against his.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” Dean told Sam once it was over. Looking into the younger man’s hurt eyes right now Dean wanted nothing more than to take his brother into his arms and hold him, something he certainly couldn’t do while he was in this cage. So when his brother begged him once more to come out Dean knew he didn’t have the will to refuse.

At the first sign that he was turning again, he was going to lock himself back in this damned cage though. Not that he’d had much warning, or any at all, last night. Or maybe he had and he simply hadn’t recognized the signs? Some things he remembered pretty clearly but others were such a damned blur. Like he was bobbing up and down in a deep ocean, sometimes almost reaching the surface for air but then being dragged back down a second later.

One thing was certain though, he wasn’t letting Sam get in this cage _with_ him again. He couldn’t really believed Sam had done that, put himself in that kind of danger. He couldn’t really believe that Bobby had just _let_ Sam do it either.

He barely nodded and started to reach into his pocket for the key when Sam mentioned Bobby nervously and what the older man “suspected” and Dean’s stomach clenched a little. He knew exactly what Sam was talking about after all. He’d heard it all…

“I know. I heard.” Dean admitted softly. He hadn’t told Sam before how good his senses were getting, and they were only getting better the closer they got to the moon… He’d been reluctant to tell Sam before, but he didn’t want his brother to feel he had to reiterate what Bobby had accused him of. Hearing it once from the older hunter was bad enough.

“My hearing has been getting better. Smell too…” He sighed softly as he passed the key to the cage through the bars to his brother. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

He meant both his eavesdropping and keeping his hands off of Sam.

* * *

"You heard?" Sam almost sagged with relief. He didn't know how he would have repeated the vile accusations. Plus there was the fact that Dean seemed to be taking a lot of things wrong lately. What Bobby said might even have convinced him that it was true. Hadn't Dean suspected that about himself before? "You can hear from here to the kitchen. Whispers?" His eyebrow went up. His brother's hearing and sense of smell were sharpening. Less human, more...

He bit his lip and looked down for a moment, at the key Dean handed him. Closing his fingers around the key, he opened the door and let Dean out. His brother hadn't taken more than two steps when Sam pushed him up against the bars and brought his mouth down messily over Dean's. Arms wrapped tight around Dean, he insisted on a kiss, crushing their lips together, demanding and gaining entrance, tangling... battling his brother's tongue as he hung onto him. If Dean had any doubts about where Sam's happiness lay, he wouldn't after this.

One burning hot kiss followed the next. Soon everything that had been troubling Sam scattered to the four winds, and there was only himself and Dean... just them, everything they needed, right there. Sliding his mouth off Dean's, he moved to Dean's throat, sucking on his skin, hard. Maybe Dean couldn't mark him like that anymore, not with Bobby's sharp eyes around, but that didn't stop Sam. Dean's skin would heal before they were up the stairs, but they would both know... they belonged to each other. His fingers dug into his brother's shoulders, his biceps, he pressed his body into Dean's so hard one of them would leave an imprint on the other. "Need you Dean. Don't... don't ever let me go."

* * *

Dean grunted when his back hit the bars and he barely had time to think before Sam was on him. The younger man was crushing his lips with his mouth. Pressing their bodies so close together Dean could feel every inch of Sam through the layers of clothing they wore. Sam was holding onto him so damned tight it was like his brother hadn’t seen, kissed, or touched him in forever.

Dean certainly wasn’t about to protest, even though he knew he should, he didn’t. His mouth opening for Sam’s insistent tongue, he kissed his brother back just as hard. Just as needy. Wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist and tugging him impossibly closer. His hands worming their way up under Sam’s shirt, running over every inch of hot skin he could reach.

He was barely able to stop himself from moaning in pleasure. His body definitely reacting to his brother’s aggressiveness, the younger man’s body pressing against him everywhere, Sam’s tongue practically fucking his mouth. He wanted Sam so fucking bad. Needed Sam. But now was definitely not the time. Not when Bobby had just accused him of… raping… Sam. Not when the older man would be watching them both like a hawk and if he saw anything amiss… like Sam’s lips kissed swollen or any fresh bruises.

But the way Sam was kissing him, touching him so damned desperately, he just couldn’t tell his brother to stop. Not even when his mouth was finally released, allowing him to take a few panting breaths only for the air to practically rush out of him again when his brother started biting and sucking on his neck.

“Fuck Sammy…” Dean breathed, biting his lip to keep from groaning. His fingers tangling in his brother’s soft hair, his others digging into Sam’s back. Just holding him there against him. “Love you… so fucking much…”

* * *

“Me too, me too, Dean,” he answered, burying his face in Dean’s throat, closing his eyes and just leaning into him as he fought the fires that had started in his body. He loved how tight Dean was holding him, leaving no space between them at all, playing with his hair... soothing him.

It took a while, but Sam got himself under control. He slipped his mouth against the sensitive skin of Dean’s throat, kissing him where his mark was already fading, then pulled up. His eyes met his brothers, and he gave him a wistful smile. Yeah, he really wanted to be alone with Dean and not have to deal with Bobby. They’d get through this.

He pulled away slowly. “Don’t look at me like that upstairs,” he said, this time giving Dean a real smile. “Should be illegal even if you weren’t my brother.” Leaning in and kissing him one more time, he started to walk backwards toward the stairs, then when he saw Dean was following, he turned and headed up.

Once in the livingroom area, his gaze met Bobby’s. “Want coffee? Getting some for us,” he said, trying to act normal... like things that should never have been said between them, hadn’t been. “Dean was... he was upset because he thinks I’m upset by what happened last night. With the hunters. I set him straight.” With that, he walked into the kitchen and started making the coffee. He knew that Dean would have heard him, but that was okay, he’d told the truth, and maybe Bobby would see it and give it rest.

* * *

Dean smiled when Sam buried his face against his throat and he just held his brother. Giving and receiving comfort and despite everything that was _wrong_ , right here, right now, everything felt _right_. Sam was always right… damn him… but Dean certainly wouldn’t change that for anything.

He could have stayed this way, simply holding Sam like this, for hours and he would have been content. But when his brother began to pull away, Dean let him go despite his reluctance to do so. They’d probably stayed down here too long already. They certainly didn’t need Bobby getting any more suspicious.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh softly when Sam warned him not to look at him like _that_ when they were upstairs. The elder man gave his brother his most innocent look, which was of course anything but, and grinned into the last kiss Sam gave him. His eyes definitely still followed Sam like he was the most beautiful thing that Dean had ever seen, at least until they reached the top of the stairs and he forced his expression to a more neutral one.

Bobby had looked up from his cooling coffee when he heard the footsteps coming up from the basement. Two pairs of footsteps. His eyes critically focusing on Sam first and then Dean. There wasn’t any malice in the older hunter’s expression and Dean kept his own carefully blank.

He wasn’t angry at Bobby for the accusations, no matter how much they hurt. He knew Bobby was only looking out for Sam, and Dean would _want_ him to. Not simply ignore something like that no matter who he thought was doing it. If Dean _was_ hurting Sam like that he would have expected and _wanted_ Bobby to put a bullet in him.

If anything though, Dean thought he saw a flash of guilt in Bobby’s eyes before the older man finished off his cold coffee and stood up.

“When you boys finish your coffee, come help be with the cars outside.” The older man said, giving Sam a nod before he headed out the back door. Dean sighed softly. He guessed they were all just going to forget it had happened. That was fine with him, he supposed.

Dean walked over to the fridge and opened it up.

“I’m starving. We got any food in this place?”

* * *

“There’s stuff for sandwiches,” Sam answered, still working on the coffee. After he heard the front door closed, he looked at Dean. “Bobby didn’t say anything. Maybe he’s... he gets it.” Otherwise, Bobby thought Dean would have been next to get grilled.

He finished making the coffee, and poured a mug for each of them. Grabbing his phone, he checked for messages from dad, then texted him. Again. “You think he’s okay? Dad?” Course Dean couldn’t know either, and it had been a question they’d batted around often enough, but he couldn’t help asking.

Once Dean had his sandwich ready and had taken a couple bites, Sam picked up his coffee. “We should go. But you get to ride with Bobby, I don’t know what to say if he starts in on me again.” Mug in hand, he started to head out, his gaze lingering on Dean’s face or a second, followed by a shy smile, before he walked out and had to put on a mask hiding his feelings again. 

* * *

Dean found the bread, peanut butter, and jelly, and pulled them out to make himself a quick sandwich. Glancing towards the door about the same time as Sam did and shrugged. Maybe Bobby got it, maybe he didn’t and he still thought he was capable of doing those awful things to his brother. Maybe the older man was just waiting to get him alone like he had waited for Sam to be alone before leveling the accusations against him. Divide and conquer. He didn’t know. He hoped it was the former and they could all just forget about it, but he wouldn’t rule out the latter.

He gave his brother a nod of thanks, taking a sip of coffee to wash down his sandwich as he watched Sam check his phone. Dean frowned a bit at the look on his brother’s face and knew even before Sam said anything there was still no word from Dad.

What the fuck? If anything had happened to the older man there was no way they’d know it until it was too late. Maybe it was just inconvenient for their father to answer his phone right now, but still, even a text to say he was alive would be nice. Still, it wasn’t the first time Dad had done similar. Even though the older man had certainly bitched _him_ out enough if he didn’t answer back in a timely fashion while he was away on a hunt.

“You know dad when he gets into a hunt.” Dean finally said with another shrug. Even though he was worried about their dad too, there wasn’t anything they could do about it right now, not when the full moon was so close. So it was better to just not worry and pretend their father was fine.

Dean nodded but made a face when Sam told him he was going to ride with Bobby to take care of the hunters cars. Not that he wanted to let the older man have the opportunity to grill his brother again, but he didn’t want to get grilled either. Still he didn’t protest as he followed Sam out the door. Returning the small smile Sam gave him made him almost not care if Bobby did spend the entire time grilling him about Sam.

*

As it turned out though, Bobby didn’t do any of that even once they were alone together. They drove the hunters cars down to the nearby lake pretty much in silence and took care of the messy deed of drowning the vehicles without any incident. Even on the drive back Bobby didn’t mention it. Apparently the older hunter had decided to ignore his suspicions, at least until Dean gave him reason to think otherwise, which Dean certainly was not going to do.

Once they got back to the cabin Bobby made lunch for them all. Well, breakfast for lunch since they’d missed actual breakfast. Dean had always loved Bobby’s omelets and the older man made it just the way he liked it. Recognizing it for the peace offering it was, Dean finally relaxed and the atmosphere became a little lighter between the three men. Each of them talking a little bit about what they’d been up to over the last couple of years since it had been a while since the three of them had been in the same room together. It was almost pleasant.

As they were clearing up the dishes from their breakfast/lunch they were all kind of startled and froze when Sam’s phone began to ring. 

* * *

Maybe he’d made peace with himself, or maybe it was Dean’s presence... whatever it was, Sam had a lot less trouble taking care of the dead hunters’ vehicles than he had with burying them. When they returned, he didn’t notice any extra tension in Dean. When his eyes sought out and found his brother’s, there was no ‘message’ in his brother’s greens. So Bobby hadn’t grilled him. Lucky.

At the cabin, Bobby cooked for them. It reminded Sam of when they were kids. Bobby was always the one to cook when they were together. If dad was around though, he and Dean had to pretty much keep quiet and let the older hunters talk. Later, Dean had been allowed into that circle. Sam had just kept busy with all the interesting things Bobby had laying around, and his books.

Sitting around the table, they actually relaxed enough to talk. Maybe he was wrong, but when it was his turn to tell about his college experiences, he thought Dean tensed. He didn’t look over at his brother, made sure he didn’t show how much he’d loved being at the university... of being normal, and learning and being rewarded for knowing shit. He also made no mention of women, especially the one that weighed on his heart. Made him feel hella guilty for his choices.

When his phone rang, he gave a start, afraid it was Jess. Then he saw the screen, and hissed ‘dad,’ before picking it up and repeating. “Where are—“

In his typical way, his father cut him off, asked if Dean was alright, then said what he had to say and hung up without answering Sam’s question about a cure. Letting out a frustrated breath, he dropped the phone down onto the table.

“He’s back. Says we need to meet him in Kilington.” First motel in the phonebook, that went without saying. “Says we have to make it before ... before the full moon,” he stuttered, looking apologetically at his brother.

* * *

Dad?

Dean had seen the look of almost panic dross his brother’s face so he knew that’s not who Sam had expected to be on the other end of the line. Honestly, Dean hadn’t really expected it to be their father either. When had the man ever actually called them back in a timely manner when they were trying to get a hold of him? Sure, he hadn’t contacted them in the last several days, but Sam had just texted the man again this morning.

Dean fought the urge to grab the phone away from his brother and start launching questions at their father himself. But it probably wouldn’t have done any good because Sam didn’t even get one question off before their dad obviously cut him off. Unfortunately Dean couldn’t actually hear what the other man was saying over the line. His ears weren’t that good. But he could pick up his father’s voice if not the actual words and that made him relax a little. Even as his dad’s urgent tone made him nervous too.

When Sam finally hung up the phone, Dean found himself almost on edge waiting for his brother to tell them what the man had said. Had he… found that Connal guy? Was there a cure after all? Dean almost didn’t want to dare to hope.

When Sam finally relayed his father’s message however Dean fairly gaped at him. What the hell? Their dad wanted them to leave? _Before_ the full moon? But he was safe here, Sam was safe here, safer than anywhere else with the cage at least. Aside from the hunters who’d attacked this place was the perfect place for him to hole up through the full moon. Dad would know that, at least, his father would know that if he’d bothered to check any of his messages, and Dad wanted them to _leave_?

Dean turned to look at Bobby, not like the older hunter had any special insight to the mind of John Winchester, but… maybe he was hoping for someone to start talking sense. Maybe he was looking for Bobby to disagree with John, as he’d done on many occasions, and say they should just stay here through the moon cycle and go meet their dad afterwards.

Bobby remained stubbornly silent though. One look at Sam and Dean realized his brother was waiting on him to speak too. Like it was his decision… God damn it…

Dean ground his teeth together before sighing heavily and pushing himself away from the table. His omelet now sitting heavily in his stomach.

“I’ll start packing up.”

* * *

The silence had been awkward, all of them waiting to see what Dean said. From the look on Bobby's face, Sam thought the older hunter wasn't happy with John's instructions, but the fact that he wasn't calling him back told Sam he trusted his dad. Of course Dean almost instantly went with their dad's instruction. It was typical.

Giving a nod, Sam followed. "Why do you think he wants us to go to him instead of meeting us here?" All the way upstairs, Sam peppered Dean with questions. Questions his brother could not possibly have answers to. Eventually, he trailed off into silence.

The three men efficiently packed their stuff, leaving no trace of their presence. Sam hefted a bag into the back of the impala, his shoulder bumping Dean's. When he looked over at his brother, he felt Bobby's gaze on them from quite a distance away, where he was loading his own truck. "You don't think he'll say anything to dad." If their dad got even a hint of Bobby's suspicion, they'd be under two pairs of watchful eyes. Sam didn't think he could stand it. As it was, Bobby was making him damned nervous.

* * *

At least they hadn’t had the chance to get comfortable, so packing up was quick and easy. Dean did his best to hide his bitterness and reluctance, but he knew he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. The same questions Sam asked him, Dean was asking himself, would have asked their father, if he thought he’d actually get an answer from the older man. But he knew he wouldn’t, calling their dad back would probably only get their call sent straight to voice mail. Dean was so frustrated he really just wanted to say fuck it, they were staying here, if Dad wanted them for something he could come to _them_ for a change.

Normally, Dean wouldn’t have much cared at their father’s cryptic order. He trusted the man to know what he was doing. If Dad wanted them to meet him somewhere, he would have gone, no questions asked, trusting his father to fill them in once they got there.

This was different... it was only a few more days to the full moon for Christ sake. He needed to be somewhere they could lock him up. He was afraid chains weren’t going to cut it, and... he was afraid. For Sam. For his Dad. For Bobby. For all the innocent people who would be in danger if he got loose.

He needed to be caged, damn it...

Dean sighed a little when he felt Sam’s shoulder bump into his, he offered the younger man a half hearted smile, that he appreciated the effort, but nothing was really going to cheer him up right now. He had enough on his mind, and when Sam asked him his next question, that was just really one more thing Dean did not really want to think about.

“I don’t know.” Dean finally said softly as he shut the impala’s trunk. It wasn’t a good answer, but it was the only one he could give. He wished he could reassure his brother better, but he was just about out of reassurances at this point. Dean looked over to Bobby who seemed to be ready to go.

“We’ll follow you.” Dean told the older hunter, and Bobby nodded, getting into his truck. Dean walked over to the drivers side of the impala and got in, reaching over to unlock the other door for Sam. As soon as Sam got in he started the car, for once the familiar rumbling engine not the least bit comforting. 

* * *

Sam was quiet for a while, choosing to study Dean's profile. Just when had his brother gone from being just another guy to someone that Sam thought of as beautiful? No doubt about it, the girls always liked his brother's ruggedly handsome features, but Sam... he'd never noticed them quite like this. He knew each smile line by heart, and the deeper furrows between Dean's brows caused by too many frowns. Then there was the sprinkling of freckles, left over from their youth... not as pronounced, but there if you looked hard enough. His gaze dropped to Dean's lips, which just made his heart kick, because he knew what those lips could do to him. He licked his own lips, imagining Dean's taste, then looked down into his lap.

"I don't like it. Killington. It's too close to where we ran into the werewolves before. I don't think that... that bitch is going to just give up on you. If she picks up your scent..." He took a deep breath. "You think it's worth trying him again, telling him to meet us somewhere else?" Course not, this was _dad_ and talking him out of anything, assuming he could even reach him, was unlikely. He worried his lower lip, then couldn't hold it in any longer, and looked over at Dean. "I wonder if there's some... some bond between a werewolf and the person she bites. I mean like vampires..."

Oh God, he shouldn't have said that. "I'm sorry." He fidgeted some, looking out the window, one hand on the dashboard, then back at Dean. "I'll stop freaking on you," he gave a determined nod, vowing he would stop spewing out his worries. Dean had enough on his shoulders.

* * *

Dean could feel Sam’s eyes on him as he drove but it didn’t make him uncomfortable. He certainly didn’t mind his brother looking at him, and he could tell that the younger man wasn’t studying him in any way other than to admire him. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but it probably had something to do with all the years Sam spent looking up to him, literally and figuratively, when they were growing up. It was different now of course and he liked the way Sam was looking at him now even more. Admiring him in an entirely different way.

His lips quirked up a little when he noticed the sudden change in his brother’s breathing, the slight change to his brother’s scent that he’d come to associate with Sam being aroused. Unfortunately when Sam spoke the small smile slipped off his face almost immediately. Damn it, Sam really did know how to kill the mood.

No, Dean didn’t like it either. They’d tried so hard to get far way from Washington, and now heading back in that direction for any reason was enough to put him on edge. But surely even if they were heading back that way the werewolves wouldn’t be anywhere around there. Not with all the hunters on their tails.

Still it made him uneasy as hell, and Sam’s musings about the bitch maybe having some kind of link to him because she’d been the one to bite him wasn’t comforting at all. Dean had no idea. Too much was unknown about werewolves. Sam was right about one thing though. The bitch wouldn’t just give up on looking for him. She’d staked their claim, marked her territory, whatever. It didn’t matter that Dean didn’t want her. She wanted him, and she wasn’t going to just let him go.

Dean realized he’d been gripping the steering wheel practically white knuckled and forced himself to relax. He looked briefly over at Sam with a raised eyebrow when the younger man promised to stop freaking out on him. Yeah, he’d appreciate that.

With a sigh, Dean popped in one of his tapes, though he didn’t turn the volume way up like he normally did.

“Why don’t you get some rest. I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ll wake you up to take over when I get tired.” Dean finally said. In truth, a part of him still felt exhausted from last night, but he wasn’t ready for sleep right now. He’d much rather drive than deal with the memories and fears that would surely surface once he closed his eyes. 

* * *

“Sorry,” he apologized again, noticing the strain in Dean’s voice in spite of the neutral words he spoke. “Yeah, I’ll close my eyes for a while, probably won’t sleep.” Which was probably a big lie because he seemed to get incredible amounts of sleep, when his brother was at he wheel and they were driving... always had.

He shifted around, getting comfortable and closing his eyes. Course letting it all go was hard, though he wasn’t gonna share his thoughts anymore... there was no use, other than getting Dean riled up too. But that Cassandra thing, he couldn’t let go of it. Even if he’d been tipsy that night she’d caught up to them, he remembered, remembered the look on her face when she claimed Dean as hers. It was the same look he’d seen on Dean when Dean looked at him, claimed him as mate.

Hell no, she couldn’t have Dean. Sam moved his hand to Dean’s thigh, squeezed and left his hand there. This man, his brother, his lover... he was his. She was never gonna get her claws in him, not ever. And yet, an insidious quiet voice in his head kept asking whether he could compete against another werewolf? What if more wolfy instincts were triggered within Dean, could he control them? What if they drew him to her? His teeth almost cut into his lower lip as he tried to push those thoughts out of his head.


	13. Chapter 13

  
Dean was glad when Sam finally drifted off to sleep in the passenger seat. He was sure Sam needed the rest, and selfishly, he needed the time to gather his own thoughts about this whole mess. Letting himself "freak out" in private and get over it before they met their Dad. He certainly had a lot to freak out over. The fact that he'd wolfed out last night and Sam had been in the cage _with_ him during most of that time, that was bad enough. But add the hunters that had caught up to them on top of that, Bobby's accusations, and now barely a day and a half till the full moon and they were driving away from the safest most secure place to keep him from hurting anyone during that time… yeah, he had a lot to freak out over.;    


  
  
He wanted to trust his dad, hell, he did trust his dad. Completely. Dean knew John Winchester had to have a damned good reason for this… he just wished this once the older man had shared his reasons beforehand so he wouldn't be freaking out so much. Maybe. If not, couldn't he have waited a few more days? What was another week? Just to make sure the full moon was done, the change was over, and they had another full month to wait before he wolfed out again…

Not counting the times he seemed to randomly go wolf for no particular reason… fuck…

Sam's hand on his thigh was a comforting weight and after a while he put his own hand over the younger man's just to make sure it stayed there. Kept him grounded. Though he couldn't help but wonder if he would be panicking more or less if Sam wasn't here with him now. If Sam had stayed back at the cabin, Dean wouldn't have to worry about his brother getting caught in the crossfire if chains alone proved not enough to hold him once he wolfed out completely. 

The idea that he would wake up after a full moon covered in Sam's blood still gave him nightmares, and probably always would. It was hard to hold onto even the barest shred of hope that their father might have actually learned something about a cure while he was gone, because wouldn't the man have at least told them that much? 

These thoughts swirled over and over around in his head and kept him pretty wound up through most of the drive. He knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep even if he woke Sam up to take over, so Dean just pushed through and let Sam rest. At least one of them should. Sam must have been more tired than Dean thought because the younger man didn't even stir when they stopped for gas. 

At least when they finally reached Killington Dean felt mostly centered and ready for whatever Dad needed them here for. They pulled into the parking lot of the motel and easily found the room with his dad's truck parked out front. He reluctantly pushed Sam's hand off his thigh before Bobby could see it and Dean shook his brother awake.

"We're here, Sammy." Dean said as he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. Bobby was already at the motel room door, knocking. By the time Dean joined him the door was opening and in spite of everything Dean found himself breathing a little sigh of relief to see his father ok. 

"Come on in." John said, and Dean almost snorted. Their Dad certainly wasn't much for big greetings. Dean started inside but stopped in the doorway when he saw an unfamiliar man already in the room with his father. Who the hell…? That was when the man's scent finally hit Dean and he couldn't contain a little gasp of surprise. He wasn't a man… not completely anyway. The man's eyes fell on him and he saw understanding and maybe even a bit of amusement in the man's eyes to Dean's reaction. 

John Winchester obviously noticed Dean's reaction too.

"Sam, Dean, this is David Conall."

* * *

“Huh, Dean?” Sam instantly searched for his brother with his hands as he opened his eyes, a frown marring his forehead when Dean pulled away. But as he sat up, he noticed they were in a parking lot and Bobby was outside his truck, and he knew. Resting his head back for one moment, he let out a breath. This could be the last moment of peace for himself and Dean, but his brother was already out of the car.

Wiping his hand over his face, Sam got out and closed the door. He heard his father’s demand they enter, and caught up with the others, maybe crowding Dean a little too much, and then stepping back.

The instant Sam saw the stranger, his gaze whipped to his father’s in question. Then he sensed Dean’s reaction and looked between the man and Dean. Something beyond the visible was going on there. “Dean?”

Then his dad was introducing them, and Sam’s heart soared. A million thoughts raced in his mind. His dad had found the man. If the man had nothing useful, he wouldn’t have dragged him back, right? So maybe there was a cure... it had to be that.

“David,” Sam put his hand out to shake hands with the man who was going to give his brother back to him. The thought that a fully human Dean might reject him had his smile slipping only slightly. “Its really good to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you. All true?” His gaze went to his dad again, as he released David’s hand. 

* * *

Dean felt almost frozen in place staring at the man... not man... who his father was introducing.

David Conall. Of course he recognized the guy now from his picture they’d managed to dig up. Though he was a little bit older now. His light blonde hair was more silver now and he had many more age lines on his face. But his blue eyes were definitely the same, as clear as ever, and they looked at Dean way too knowingly for the young man’s liking.

This man was studying him as intently as Dean studied him. This man who was supposed to have the cure. Who had supposedly been bitten by a werewolf and somehow cured himself, but was obviously not human. This was why their dad had brought them here? To meet the man who obviously _didn’t_ have a cure?

What the fuck?!

Dean’s paralysis was finally broken when his brother pushed past him and actually _shook_ the man’s hand. Even though Dean didn’t really sense any aggression or danger from the man, he was by his brother’s side in an instant. Before the other man could respond Dean had taken Sam’s arm and dragged the younger man away from Conall with a low growl.

“Dean!” John admonished sharply but instead of falling in line the way he normally would have, Dean only continued to glare at the other man.

“He’s not _human_.” The younger man accused, almost daring Conall to deny it.

“Dean...” The elder Winchester said again, warning, but David intervened before the shouting match could begin.

“Its all right, John. I understand. Believe me, I understand.” The man said giving Dean a smile that wasn’t unkind. Dean wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by that or the fact that the man was apparently on a first name basis with his father.

“Please, Dean, sit down. We have a lot to discuss, and unfortunately, not much time.”

* * *

Sam wasn’t prepared to be tugged half way across the room and tucked practically behind his brother’s body as his brother growled and accused the other man of being a werewolf. His heart rammed against his heart, afraid Dean was gonna start something. “Dean,” he said softly, but the others spoke over him.

The man, David, seemed to be friendly and non-threatening, even if he wasn’t human. And his dad sure seemed at ease, though he’d been about to lay into Dean before David intervened.

“Dean...” This time he was the one tugging his brother to a chair, and putting his hand on his shoulder, pushing him down. “Let’s listen to what he has to say, alright?” His side pressed into Dean, so his brother could feel the gun he had in his belt. Dean had watched him load it with silver bullets. He left his hand on his brother’s shoulder, knowing his touch would be comforting, squeezing it to make sure he knew he was right there with him on this.

A part of him felt Bobby’s watchful eyes. A muscle twitched in his jaw, but he gave no other sign that anything might be wrong. “Not much time for what?” he asked. Yeah, the full moon was almost on them, but it seemed like they might be talking about something else. He wasn’t sure.

* * *

Listen? What the hell was there to listen to?! The whole point of finding this Conall guy was to find a cure for Lycanthropy wasn’t it? If the guy was still a werewolf himself then what was the fucking point?!

But between his father and Sam Dean didn’t really have a choice but to sit down and listen like the guy asked. So he reluctantly sat down in the chair his brother guided him into. Relaxing a little, but not very much, with the younger man beside him and his brother’s hand on his shoulder.

Once again Dean thought Conall’s gaze on him and Sam was a little too knowing. Kind of like Bobby’s watchful eyes, but the guy didn’t give anything away. David nodded a little, acknowledging Sam’s question.

“It will probably be easier if I start from the beginning.” Conall’s eyes turned back to Dean. “You’re right. I am not human, not completely. But I still might have something to offer you if you are willing to listen. I have spoken at great length with your father, but of course the choice is up to you to take what I have to offer you or not.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed a little as he glanced at his Dad who gave him a slight nod and Dean sighed softly and forced himself to relax more. He finally looked back at David and nodded and the man smiled slightly.

“I know what you were hoping I could offer you. Believe me, I know exactly how you feel, and I wish I could give you that. A complete cure, but I do not know if one even exists. The curse of the wolf spirit is… complicated. As you may already know about curses, they are difficult, if not impossible, to break.”

David paused for a second but it was obvious he wasn’t really waiting for a response from any of the men, as he continued shortly.

“When I was bitten by a werewolf, I thought my only fate was death or worse. But a very old friend of mine, a Native American Shaman, was able to help me. He told me that the wolf spirit is not necessarily evil. In fact, to become a vessel for the wolf spirit was once considered a great honor. A blessing even. But of course like anything greedy evil men can taint what is holy and the blessing became a curse.”

“I know of no way to remove the wolf spirit. It is a part of your soul now. But I do know of a ritual to purify you and the spirit of the darkness of the curse. To help it return to its true form. From what your father has told me, the spirit within you is very strong. The ritual will help you meld completely with the spirit and you will have a greater chance in fighting off the darkness, helping the spirit to purify itself. But this must happen before the first full moon, before the curse has a chance to corrupt you both. That is what I can offer you. It is up to you to decide.” 

* * *

Without even knowing it, Sam was kneading Dean’s shoulder as he listened and assimilated the information from this Conall guy. He felt Dean’s suspicion of him, or his unease, and made sure not to keep his gaze too long on the man. He was acting on instinct, maybe clued in by the way Dean had pushed him away from Conall before.

Curses were difficult, he said Dean couldn’t be cured. Not completely. Sam felt the cold in the pit of his stomach spread. He took a couple of breaths, reminding himself that he’d wanted to pursue the pack, to find out how much control they had over the change, to see if that could help Dean. Something less than a full cure... it was... should be acceptable.

But maybe not to Dean. He practically held his breath, waiting for an outburst.

When none came, Sam licked his lips and looked first at his dad, then Conall. “What does that mean, melding with the wolf spirit. I mean... would he be... you’re still a werewolf.” He found it easier to put it in terms of Conall than his brother. “How does it help to meld? Does it mean you have control over the change and ... and your emotions? That you can be allowed free during the full moon?”

Hope flooded through Sam as his grip on Dean tightened. “Does it help you fight the change?”

* * *

Dean’s expression hadn’t changed as he listened to Conall speak but his heart fell somewhere down below his stomach. Of course he’d known… all along… that a cure wasn’t possible. He’d known from the very beginning. He’d told Sam and his dad all along… but a part of him had still begun to hope and he was right. That slight hope, now crushed, was worse than no hope at all.

When the other man finally finished speaking he could only stare at him, not really knowing how to respond. How was he supposed to respond? He had no idea what Conall was “offering” him. Not a cure… that much seemed certain enough.

Dean looked towards his father again. Wanting to trust… _needing_ to trust… that his Dad wouldn’t have done all this, brought him here to meet this man, just to be told he would always be a monster…

Finally Sam asked what Dean couldn’t and he looked back at Conall, almost pleading. Needing an explanation he could understand, damn it.

“As I said before, the wolf spirit is not evil by itself. If the ritual works it can be freed from the darkness of the curse, and if the man inside is not evil, then you should be no danger to those around you.” Conall replied.

It wasn’t what Dean had hoped for. It wasn’t a cure. But if it was all he could get…

“Alright…” Dean finally managed to reply, glancing briefly to Sam and then back to David. “Why are we here? Why couldn’t you come to us at the cabin?”

Instead of Conall responding his father did.

“One of the ingredients to perform the ritual is… the blood of the werewolf that bit you.” John Winchester stated. Dean couldn’t help gaping a little at him a little, praying that he’d heard wrong, but he knew he hadn’t. Dean tensed even more beneath Sam’s hand without meaning to, but despite his obvious discomfort his father continued, confirming Dean’s unasked question. “The werewolves are here.”

* * *

Sam was a bit frustrated by the indirect answer. He rubbed his eyes with two fingers, then pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep calm… for both of them. This was important… this was the rest of their lives they were talking about here. “I don’t… I think that’s great, that you can control yourself from being a danger. But ah… what about the change, does it come anyway, or can you prevent it?” That made a whole helluvalot of a difference in whether Dean could go out or would be stuck indoors, if they’d still need to be certain they had shelter. It was doable, definitely doable… but he just needed the information.

Before he hit Conall with yet another question, Dean looked up at him, and broke in with his own very good one. “Yeah,” Sam added, “cause the cabin was nice and secure and this place, it’s too close to…”

That’s when his dad dropped the bombshell. Sam sucked his breath in, tried to remain calm even as Dean’s muscles tensed under his hand, and one look at his expression confirmed Dean was on strained and on edge.

He licked his lips. “Okay, this is… it’s good news.” The unenthusiastic response from the others had him talking faster. “Dad, you and I went in after Dean, we were alone. Now we’ve got Dean and Bobby,” his gaze went to Conall, but he wasn’t going to commit the guy to going on a hunt, not unless the guy volunteered. “And two of us know what Cassandra looks like,” he glanced down at Dean. “You saw her in one of the photos,” he looked back at his dad. “So if you know where they are, we can put the bitch down, no problem.” The last was spoken through gritted teeth. He owed her… for what she put his brother through, Sam owed her. 

* * *

It was really obvious that Sam wasn’t satisfied with Conall’s answers, and Dean half expected the man to get annoyed with Sam the same way their father usually did when the younger man started digging at him the way his brother was now. But the other man’s expression remained calm and almost way too understanding for Dean’s liking. The man looked genuinely sympathetic with their plight and for some reason it seemed really out of place. The guy didn’t really know them at all, and yet he’d let his father drag him all the way back here where a whole fucking pack of werewolves were apparently camped close by just to help him.

Dean turned to look at Sam as though he’d grown a second head, however, when the younger man went on to say that this was a _good_ thing. Ok, so maybe it was slightly better odds going in with four hunters rather than two but still four hunters against a whole fucking pack of werewolves?!

Cassandra... he would have loved to never see the bitch again for the rest of his life. Though it would be really satisfying pumping about a dozen silver bullets into her carcass, this definitely wasn’t the way he would have wanted to go about it. Going up against ONE werewolf was hard enough, but a whole damned pack? And they couldn’t call in other hunters to help because they wanted HIM dead too!

And they had to do this all before the full moon? Could it get any fucking more complicated? Almost as soon as the thought formed in his father continued speaking and Dean kicked himself. He should have known better to even think that...

“We need her alive. At least until we finish the ritual.” John Winchester explained and Dean mentally groaned. Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw Bobby, who’d been pretty much listening and taking it all in silently, sigh heavily and pull off his ball cap. Running his fingers through his thinning hair, a sign Dean had come to recognize as frustration from the older hunter. They all knew this wasn’t just going to be “not easy” it was going to be nearly fucking impossible.

Finally Conall picked up answering Sam’s original questions.

“I wish I could give you more answers and reassurances, but I can’t. This ritual is known to only a very few and has only been performed a handful of times successfully. Each time the results have varied, all I can tell you is it depends greatly on the strength of the wolf spirit and the strength of the man. But you already know what will happen if the curse is allowed to reach fulfillment...” 

* * *

Sam felt his brother's reproachful look at his excitement, but it didn't dampen his spirit even a little. So many research projects had slammed up against dead ends. So many hopes had been dashed, each time he thought there might be something that lead to a solution, a cure. And the search for Conall had frankly been like looking for a needle in a haystack. He had to credit his dad, for his skill and perseverance. They might butt heads on a lot of things, but they were both stubborn, and sometimes it paid off. He was so glad he was doing something quite unusual, grinning at his dad, not that the eldest Winchester even noticed.

Then his dad announced Cassandra had to be taken alive. Sam glanced at Dean. He knew it was ridiculous to be jealous, Dean hadn't looked at her twice when she'd said he'd be in heat for her soon. She had to be wrong. She _was_ wrong. Had to be. Still, the blood was pounding at his temples as he desperately tried to think of a way to keep Cassandra away from Dean.

Just as he was about to ask Conall again about what they could expect, the man answered. It certainly wasn't a satisfying answer, not like what Sam had wanted. "So kinda like a drug affects each person differently you don't know in what way the ritual will help Dean." He looked down, then back up, speaking with conviction. "Dean is strong, he'll make it. He's controlled it before," he nodded, having seen Dean's struggle first hand, and its results.

Leaving Dean's side, he moved closer to Conall, inspecting him. "Okay, so... what about you? What did the ritual do for you?" He wanted, no he needed specifics. Yeah he got that everyone reacted differently, but how had Conall benefited, specifically. "What are the pros and cons of your sitch?" Maybe he felt his dad's temperature rising, he wasn't sure, but he didn't care. This was important.

* * *

Dean could tell even though Conall’s tolerance of Sam’s questions seemed near infinite, his father was pretty much reaching the end of his patience. Their dad had obviously heard all of this before, decided the risks and benefits were acceptable, and thought they should all just shut up now and go along with the plan because they were wasting time. But Dean… he wasn’t sure… and not because of the reasons why Sam obviously kept needling the man. Wanting to know exactly what the ritual would do for him even though the man said that the results were unpredictable, only favorable. At least, favorable compared to the curse the way it was.

Dean was hesitant to agree to this for a completely different reason. Cassandra… Taking on a whole pack of werewolves days before the full moon where they would be about as strong as they were going to get. Even trying to kill the bitch under those circumstances was approaching on insane. But trying to take her _alive_?! That was just plain suicidal. Death wasn’t even the worst outcomes. What if they were captured? What if they were bitten? What if they turned…

He wouldn’t… he _couldn’t_ let his father, Sam, and Bobby take that kind of risk for him. He just couldn’t…

“Your father said you were a law student. It shows.” Conall suddenly said and Dean couldn’t contain the snort of amusement that escaped him. Hearing answering bursts of laughter from Bobby and his father. That was probably Conall’s intent, to try to lessen the growing tension in the room. In spite of Dean’s initial reaction to David he decided he liked the guy.

“But I’m sorry, asking the same questions again and again only in a different way will not receive the answers you’re looking for, it will only waste time. I have told you what the ritual has done for me. The wolf spirit and my spirit are now one. I am not evil. The wolf is not evil. I am no danger to those around me.” Conall said to Sam before turning his attention fully onto Dean again. “Do you wish to perform the ritual?”

Dean found himself having to look away from those too knowing eyes, staring down at his hands resting on his knees. Remembering the claws that had sprouted from them, how they had torn into Sam’s flesh. Yeah… he’d done a bang up job controlling it. Despite Sam’s confidence that he was strong enough…

“No.” Dean replied, barely above a whisper. The risks were just too damned great. It would be safer if they just locked him up, put him in a cage, and kept a gun loaded with silver bullets ready to blow his brains out if he got free.

* * *

Sam’s jaw tightened. He’d asked the same question because the guy hadn’t answered directly the first time either. He got that the guy wasn’t a danger, but what about the frigging details? Could he resist the change, or did he change but was harmless? How did it feel, was there any pain? He had a lot more questions, but the looks on everyone else's faces said question time was over. Sometimes you had to take things on faith, and he had to believe his dad had gotten the details that they were now no willing to take a few freakin' minutes to share. Yeah... dad had never been over-sharey, especially with him. He was better with Dean.

When Conall finally asked Dean about doing the ritual, Sam turned to look at Dean and then answered at the same time, "yes."

His eyes widened when his brother's answer contradicted his. "Dean, what do you mean 'no?'" He took a deep breath, reached his brother and put a hand on his shoulder, "You mean 'yes' Dean." His gaze pierced into the very depths of his brothers eyes as he silently questioned, didn't he want any of their dreams to come true? Was he giving up on them, just like that?

Hurt ripped through him. How could Dean even contemplate not doing this? Before Dean could speak, he raised his index finger up, making him pause. "The answer is 'yes' Dean." It was both a plea and an implacable demand. Dean would know that from the set of his face.

* * *

Patience wasn’t one of John Winchester’s virtues. He was man enough to admit that, and the fact that they were still here _discussing_ this instead of already out there looking for the werewolf bitch so they could cure his son was quickly wearing down his already thin patience. John tried to tell himself that Sam’s questions were all reasonable, and the very same ones he had asked Conall himself when he’d first found the man. That and then some, in fact. Trying to determine if this really was the best course for his son.

It was. John was absolutely certain of that. If he’d had any doubts, they definitely wouldn’t be here now. The fact that it was their only real option at this point had factored greatly into his decision to drag Conall here even though time was short, their chances were slim, and the man had been rather unwilling at first. But John Winchester was nothing if not persuasive when he wanted to be. He was going to make this work, damn it. He was going to cure his son!

It wasn’t a perfect cure like they might have wanted, but it was still the best option they had. It was for that reason that John had persuaded Conall not to reveal certain... aspects... of the cure to his sons. John honestly wasn’t sure if Dean would go along with it if he knew, and though Conall was very reluctant to go along with such deception even if it was for his son’s own good... again... John could be very persuasive.

Dean refusing to have the ritual performed... that certainly hadn’t been in John’s plan. At first he could only stare agape at the younger man for a moment before he felt the last of his patience snap.

“Dean...” The older man started, but Sam beat him to it.

Dean wasn’t at all taken aback by Sam’s response to his reply. He’d been expecting it, after all. Of course Sam wouldn’t understand his reasons or respect them, but that didn’t stop it from hurting all the same. He didn’t want to argue with Sam over this, damn it. It was hard enough. This was what they’d been looking for, hoping for, but... god damn it, why couldn’t Sam understand...

He definitely didn’t want to do this now, not in front of Dad and Bobby and a complete stranger. His eyes begged Sam to understand, but his brother’s eyes were hard and unyielding. Something in his brother’s eyes telling him that if Dean didn’t do this then Sam wasn’t going to be so forgiving. Would Sam leave him if he didn’t do this? Or would he do something even worse? Like try to go after Cassandra himself?

One look at his father’s face told him that they were going to do this with or without his consent, and he could either help them or let them risk their lives without him. Dean’s shoulders finally sagged in defeat. “Fine.” 

* * *

Their eyes had locked for a long time, Sam holding his breath, willing Dean to do the right thing. When Dean looked away, Sam thought he was going to refuse again, but then he looked at dad. Of course dad held more power over Dean than Sam ever had, and he apparently agreed for the older man's sake. Yeah, he shouldn't care 'why' Dean agreed, it should be enough that he did.

Still, he couldn't help it if his gaze was a little cool as it slid past Dean, and just nodded at the other men. It was on.

Bobby asked a couple of questions about where John had tracked the pack to and how likely was it they'd find them quickly enough. Sam paid attention to the details, even though his dad probably thought of everything. It was funny how his dad was more patient with Bobby's questions.

Eventually John told everyone to meet back in the parking lot in an hour. He had to take care of something, and then they'd be on their way. Course that meant if they wanted to eat or drink they had to do it before they left. Since they'd gone through a drive through earlier, Sam wasn't really hungry.

Grabbing the room key his dad gave him, he nodded at hearing they had the room across the hall. Looking at Dean, he walked toward the door. Yeah, he felt Bobby's eyes on him. He did turn his head and met the hunter's eyes, then pulled the door open and walked out.

Opening the door to their room, he walked into the small bedroom, then dropped his duffel bag at the foot of one of the beds. He didn't say much as Dean walked in behind him, he was trying to control his own emotions.

* * *

Dean didn’t utter another word as the two older hunters talked but he listened. The pack had been searching for him, apparently. Followed them this far but then lost their trail. It was dangerous for them. Staying in the area like this while they tried to pick his trail back up again. It just went to show how desperate Cassandra was to get him back. What lengths she would go to, risking the life of every one of her pack members, knowing hunters were in the are looking for them, and not caring.

In a really sick twisted way it was kind of flattering.

His dad had somehow figured round about where the pack had holed up. Down route 12 about twenty miles, in the woods somewhere around there. How the hell his father had managed it to track them even that far, was anyone’s guess. His father was definitely one of the best hunter’s out there, hands down. This was just another proof of it, not that Dean had ever had any doubts. No wonder the older man hadn’t picked up his phone for a few days.

Finally his Dad announced they should stow their stuff in their room and get ready to leave. Dean stood up without really looking at his father, following his brother without really looking at Sam either. He could practically feel the frigid air coming off the younger man as Sam gave him the cold shoulder. Not that he could really blame the younger man. He knew he’d pissed Sam off with his initial refusal. Dean wished he could feel hopeful, or something, about this whole possible “cure” but all he felt was anxious.

As they left his father’s room he could feel Bobby’s eyes on him but he didn’t look at the other hunter either. That, Bobby’s suspicions of him and Sam, his accusations of him hurting Sam, was just one more thing in a long list he couldn’t deal with right now. As the door to his father’s room shut he heard John talking to Bobby in more hushed tones about taking Conall to find a place where the ritual could be performed… and for Bobby to keep an eye on him. Dean wasn’t sure what that meant exactly but he didn’t really have much time to contemplate it.

He was alone with his brother and “tense” was an understatement. As Dean finally looked at Sam, who still would not look at him, Dean couldn’t help but feel a cold fear coiling in his gut like writhing snakes. Damn it. This wasn’t the way to do this. It was fucking suicide to just go charging into a werewolf pack, days before the full moon when they were at their strongest. Trying to kidnap their alpha bitch, the bastards would tear them apart piece by piece before they allowed any one of them to put a hand on her. Not to mention they were already on the lookout for hunters, so they wouldn’t be taken by surprise in the first place, like they had been when Sam and Dad had rescued him. Not to mention if from what he heard, it would only be him, Sam, and Dad doing the kidnapping too. Three hunters against a whole werewolf pack?

Dean remembered how afraid he’d been when the werewolves had caught up to them outside of that bar. Seeing Sam in their hands, offering to trade himself, go willingly, if they would let Sam go. So easily… they could have killed Sam so easily then. Snapped his neck before Dean had even gotten outside, or worse, they could have _bitten_ him. He couldn’t go through that again… why couldn’t Sam understand that? Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to convince his dad and brother not to do this. They’d ignore his protests, his pleas, not to put themselves on the line for him. But… maybe he could do something to give them a better edge? A distraction. If he went in alone first… they wouldn’t kill him, in fact, Cassandra would probably be ecstatic to see him crawling back to her as she’d predicted he’d do. Sam and Dad would never go for it. It took Dean less than a minute to make his decision.

He closed the distance between himself and his brother, grabbing Sam by the arm and spinning the younger man around to face him. Not giving his brother a moment to react before he was covering Sam’s mouth with his own and kissing the younger man hard and deep. Pouring all of his love and devotion into the nearly bruising kiss. Needing Sam to know… to always know… how much his brother meant to him no matter what.

“I’m sorry…” Dean whispered softly when he finally let the younger man up for air, panting more than a little himself. He hesitated only a moment then before hitting his brother hard enough the younger man dropped like a stone, knocked out cold. Immediately Dean knelt by the other man’s side, checking Sam over to make sure he hadn’t done any other damage, tears in his eyes as his fingers ghosted over the already forming bruise.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, forcing himself to pull away and stand. He only had an hour to do this. Dean left their room and the motel. He didn’t take the Impala. Didn’t want to deprive his father or Sam any weapons at their disposal, and certainly didn’t want to arm the fucking werewolves against his family. He quickly found a car, busted the window, and hotwired it. More concerned about time than finesse. Within minutes he was driving down route 12 in the direction his father said the werewolves were. Dean had no doubt he would find them quickly. If they didn’t find him first. 

* * *

Sam had a few choice words he wanted to get off his chest, or he knew it would drive him crazy. But before he could even open his mouth, he was pulled around and in Dean's arms as his brother's mouth descended over his. "Dmmm." He wasn't allowed to say a word, and he might have struggled if Dean's kiss hadn't been so desperate, so filled with emotion... with love. Sam's anger lost its grip on him, and suddenly Dean was all there was... all he could think about.

He wrapped his own arms around his brother, kissing him back, tangling his tongue with Dean's, battling... loving... reaffirming this wouldn't change, no matter what. A part of Sam's mind registered that his body was reacting, that he was getting hard, that any moment now, he'd be tugging at Dean's shirt and that this wasn't the time or place. And yet he couldn't bring himself to care enough. With his heightened emotions, this was exactly what he needed, and his brother seemed to know it. Dean... always taking care of his needs, even if he'd been an ass just a few moments ago.

When their mouths parted, Sam was struggling to get some air. His eyes were unfocused, his brother's apology perplexing. "What--"

*

"Dean?" Sam struggled against the blackness that had engulfed him. "What happened." Eyes open but a bit bleary, Sam looked around. His mental haze cleared, and he shot upright, hand going to the side of his head that throbbed like hell. "Dammit... Dean!"

He was out the door and pounding on his dad's a moment later. When the door opened, he didn't give his dad's scowl a second thought. "He's gone. Dean."

He didn't have to say another word, his dad understood from the way he was holding his head and what he'd said.

John told the others to get their stuff and tossed a bag at Sam to take to the car.

As they walked out, Sam's mind was a tangle of thoughts centered on Dean so that he couldn't even wonder how incompetent his dad must be thinking he was at this moment. He barely realized he'd gotten into the truck, Bobby's. Great... just fuckin' great. He glanced at the older hunter, and was surprised by his reassuring look. They'd find Dean, he telegraphed without saying a word. Sam nodded his head in agreement and clicked the seatbelt into place.

They left the dirt lot in a cloud of dust and hit the road, practically tailgating his dad's car. He gripped the 'oh shit' handle and tried to keep his emotions under control. They'd seen the glass in the parking lot and knew Dean had taken a car, so he had a good headstart on them. The question was, what was he doing? Was he going to try to do this alone? He was going to get his ass caught, and then what? All of this for nothing. Sam kicked the floorboard, then appologized to Bobby.

A thousand things could go wrong. Then there was Cassandra. The thought of her getting her claws into Dean. Sam turned his head, looked steadfastly outside. Dean didn't want her, not that way. He'd made it pretty clear. And yet, he was part wolf... what if the wolf recognized a she-wolf... wanted what Sam couldn't give him, couldn't give his wolf side. This time he pressed his forehead against the cool glass. "Remind me to kick his ass, after we get him back."

* * *

Dean forced himself to keep his borrowed car within the speed limit even though his instinct was to floor the accelerator. He knew he had to get where he was going as soon as possible. No telling when Sam might wake up and his family would be right on his ass. They knew where he was going after all. But the last thing he needed was to get pulled over by some backwoods cop in a stolen car without even a fake ID on him. He was not about to spend several nights in a jail cell with the full moon so fucking close.

But even though he managed to keep himself from burning rubber all the way down Route 12, he couldn’t stop himself from practically strangling the steering wheel as he drove. His knuckles white and his muscles so tense his shoulders ached. He even felt a drop of sweat down the back of his neck and he knew he had to calm the fuck down really quick before he got where he was going. If he didn’t they were going to smell his tension a mile away and know right away that he wasn’t there of his own free will.

As he drove Dean couldn’t help but take in the surroundings. The little town quickly gave way to mostly wooded area, though a few houses popped up here and there along the way. Too far away to hear your neighbors scream, but close enough to provide adequate… hunting grounds… Dean felt sick to his stomach.

After driving for about twenty minutes, just like his Dad had said, Dean pulled the car over to the side of the road. He took a moment to wipe down his prints and then got out of the car. Swallowing down his fear as he walked straight into the woods, knowing if they were around here like his father suspected he’d find them pretty fast. Either he’d pick up their scent or they’d pick up his.

As he walked, Dean turned his thoughts towards his brother. Not to the memory of Sam lying unconscious on the floor after Dean hit him, but memories of kissing Sam, touching his brother, making love to him. The night Sam had promised to stay with him. The joy he’d felt. The pleasure and love he felt whenever they were together, joined in the most intimate way.

It helped calm him but more than that, it stirred arousal in his body the way thinking of Sam always did. Cassandra was expecting him to be in heat after all. She was expecting a mate… and Dean had to play the part. 

* * *

Jordan and two others were just finishing covering the mass grave when he lifted his head and sniffed. "That one is here." Pure fury marred his face as he turned and started heading against the direction of the breeze.

The other two men caught up, one of them grabbing his arm and reminding him that Cassandra had made it clear Dean was to be mated with her. Everyone knew Jordan had always had his own sights on the position of the pack alpha male, that he wanted their leader and the power he'd wield as her chosen.

Snarling, he shoved them away. "She said nothing about the condition he needs to be in." They started to move faster, all three of them, splitting up slightly and going from a walk to a dead run, jumping over shrubs and tree roots, fallen branches and the like. As they raced and got closer, Jordan recognized that Dean was in heat. He'd been tortured by similar scents of arousal from Cassandra, but these days all she wanted was three minutes of his time for a quick fuck, and he could tell that when she closed her eyes and ordered him to call her 'bitch'... it was this bastard she was thinking off.

He saw him, walking like he didn't have a fucking care. Yeah, he was coming to take his mate, take his place. Well fuck that. Widening his strides, Jordan changed mid air, his bones shifting, his face painfully rearranging into a snout as he became larger, half human, half wolf, and all-muscle killing machine.

Landing right in front of Dean, he swiped him with his claws, and attacked, the scent of blood driving him near crazy. While several of the pack had learned how to shift at will, they were not tamed by any means. Around the full moon, they all needed blood.... to kill... needed an outlet for their aggression, and on the night of the full moon, every last one of them would turn. They'd hunt in packs. This one... this one should be the prey, he thought, snarling and pouncing on him again.

* * *

Dean had been walking through the woods for about a half an hour now and he was beginning to worry who was going to find him first. The werewolves or his family. He knew that was going to depend a lot on just how long Sam had been out for, something he had no way of knowing. At the most Dean knew he had an hour, because if Sam didn’t wake up in that time period his father would have gone banging on “their” door instead and found his brother unconscious. An hour was definitely not long enough to stay ahead of John Winchester. Especially when Dean had made no real effort to cover his tracks.

God damn it. Where were they? Dean knew he was close… he could feel it. He tried to keep his senses focused on the woods around him. Listening… smelling… the last thing he wanted was to be caught by surprise.

It was kind of funny then when that’s exactly what happened. Dean had barely heard the soft rustling of the leaves, a snap of the branch, and finally a viscous growl. The attack had come from upwind. No way he could have known, but Dean still cursed himself as an idiot for not being prepared, or at least he would have if he’d had a split second to think. He didn’t. He barely managed to jump back away from the slashing claws and snapping jaws of the other werewolf. He still felt the bite of pain in his side from those razor sharp claws where they grazed him, but at least they hadn’t gutted him instead.

Dean sidestepped and rolled out of the way of the next pounce. He recognized the scent of the werewolf attacking him. He didn’t remember his name, but he could smell the rage and jealousy pouring off of him. It wasn’t just an attack. It was a _challenge_. Like a younger wolf would challenge the alpha male for dominance or for a mate. When Dean got back to his feet in a low crouch, he growled back at the other wolf just as viciously. There was no way he was going to allow this pup to take what was _his_.

His blood, the wolf spirit inside of him, reacted at an instinctual level. The wolf spirit was strong in this pack. That was why so many of them could change at will and not just the full moon. Dean felt his own body shifting. His fingernails growing into wicked sharp blades, his canine teeth lengthening and sharpening, his muscles shifting subtly, growing stronger, as did his senses. It wasn’t a full change. He wasn’t old enough or experienced enough for that. But he didn’t need to be. His father had taught him how to fight since he was four years old. That combined with the strength of the wolf…

Dean wait for the other werewolf to attack him again, he launched himself at the other wolf with a bloodthirsty snarl. Easily avoiding most of the claw swipes from the other werewolf, and the ones he didn’t avoid, were only a little more than superficial cuts anyway. Dean gave far better than he got. His claws swiping the other werewolf down the chest first, then along his back as he dodged a clumsy attack. They snarled at each other. Circling. Attacking and retreating. The other werewolf’s attacks were coming far less however and he was retreating far sooner each time. It was clear that Dean had the upper hand.

He was done playing around. Dean attacked again and this time he did not let the other werewolf retreat. Barreling into the other wolf he sent them both to the ground in a tangle of snapping teeth and swiping claws. The struggle however was surprisingly brief, and Dean quickly had the other wolf pinned. His teeth digging sunk deeply into the other’s neck, threatening to rip out his throat if he did not submit. The other wolf grew still very quickly after that and after another threatening growl, sinking his teeth just a little bit deeper in warning, Dean released the other werewolf and stood. Ready just in case… but the other wolf did not attack him again.

It was then that Dean noticed that they were not alone in the small clearing where their struggle for dominance had taken place. Dean turned glowing yellow eyes to the two other wolves and growled, practically daring them to challenge him as well, but they did not.

“Take me to Cassandra.” Dean finally growled. 

* * *

The other wolves snarled right back, eyes flashing yellow. Then all three of them started to coral Dean, pointing him in the direction he needed to go. They traveled quickly, one of them running ahead eventually.

They traveled through thick forest terrain and then came onto a clearing in front of a mountainside. Just as they arrived, Cassandra walked out, flanked by several large men, all of them sniffing the air and watching Dean closely.

"Well, well, well," she said, tossing her glossy mane behind her back as she walked toward Dean, "You came back just like I said." Putting one hand on his shoulder, she moved her face near his throat and sniffed. Then smirking, pulled back. "Your pheromones are out of control. They're affecting mine already."

When Dean didn't attack, she nodded at the others to give them some room. She traced the lines of his face with her long scarlet nails. "You need to be prepared, learn what to expect with the full moon. We... your pack will help you," she purred. "And then you and I will mate. We're going to make history, you and I."

*

For a while, she got serious and explanations were given to Dean as to how he'd change, what it would feel like, where to go on his first wolf run. "You'll want to draw blood, need to. Often, you'll crave the blood of someone you love. The one you love best. I think it's a way of cutting off ties with the past," she shrugged her slender shoulder. "I tore my mother apart. She was pregnant with my younger sister." A wistful look crossed her features. "Our pack is cursed with memory. We don't forget what we have done in our werewolf form. But sometimes that's a blessing... we can plan, hide our doings better."

Sitting on some of the chairs that had been brought out for them, she explained some more about their diets, and how they were still trying to swell their ranks by selecting humans for their fighting pits, the way Dean had been. Seeing him tense, she shook her head. "Don't get angry, its a game of survival, just like live. Humans want to survive, we want to...and we procreate by selecting the strongest and best humans. You're not one of them anymore."

His lack of interest in what she was saying irked her. She put her hand on his thigh, stroking up and down, her breath hitching slightly. "Don't forget the benefits. You're strong, and fast, and tireless. You can have, take whatever you want. And you get me." Smirking, she leaned closer.

*

There wasn't a smile among the four men as they tracked Dean. Conall's eyes had gone eerily yellow, reminding Sam of Dean when he was in that 'in between' stage and it was never clear whether Dean understood everything or not, though at times he thought some of what he said got through. In his partial state, the werewolf was better able to follow Dean's scent.

When they'd ditched their cars near the one Dean had left on the roadside, Conall had produced a jar and told everyone to rub its contents on their skin. It would conceal their scent from other wolves, though there was no guaranty. In theory, it would give them the edge of being able to surprise the wolves, if the wolves didn't hear or see them first.

Seeing his dad looking up at the trees, Sam scanned overhead, also looking for scouts, then straight ahead. When they reached an area with torn up ground and clear signs of a scuffle, he grew more somber. "Dean..."

The other men met his gaze, and Bobby thumped him on the back, and they were off again. Walking a little faster, a little more anxiously, but the two seasoned hunters made sure they remained cautious, even when Sam wanted to urge them to move even quicker. His brother was at the mercy of those animals. They'd held him, chained him, poisoned him. If they did any of that to him again...

And then Conall and John were each raising a hand up at the same time. The others fanned out, and hiding behind trees, moved closer until they could hear conversation and see the clearing.

Sam's fingers tightened on the gun in one hand, the fingers of his other hand digging into the bark of the tree he was leaning on as he watched Cassandra practically mauling Dean. Her hand slipped up Dean's chest and she'd thrown one leg over his lap, like she was about to straddle him.

"Sex as humans will be explosive. But when we shapeshift... Dean, no human can imagine how that feels," she said, her mouth now brushing his.

* * *

They didn’t try to attack him again as they led him back to the rest of the pack, not that Dean had been expecting them to, but he was ready for it just in case. They went further and further into the woods, deeper than Dean had been expecting, and a lot closer to the mountain. Until they finally reached a clearing where the pack had set up a primitive camp in front of an old abandoned mine, easy to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice.

It seemed like the attention of every member of the pack turned to him the second he stepped into the clearing. Some looking at him with curiosity and some with mistrust or hostility, but there were actually very few of those looks. He was one of them now after all…

Dean wasn’t surprised when Cassandra came out of the cave and approached him almost immediately. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, but he forced himself to remain relaxed. Thinking of Sam to help keep himself calm and still when she approached him and sniffed him. He could smell her as well, and the wolf inside of him recognized her scent as a female wolf in heat.

But despite the fact that the wolf in him knew that she could give him what his current mate could not, potential offspring, Dean was relieved to know that he still felt no interest in her. Perhaps a part of himself fearing, as Sam had, that the wolf would react to her despite Dean’s wishes. He was sure now, more than ever, that it wasn’t just the wolf inside of him that had caused the feelings he had for Sam. It was him, because he loved Sam, and it was as simple as that.

Too bad that realization had to come at a time like this, when he was surrounded by a pack of werewolves that would rip him to pieces if they figured out he wasn’t really “into” their leader. So Dean was relieved when she decided to take care of business before pleasure. He sat and listened to her talk about what he could expect… once he turned.

A part of him was horrified, especially when she talked about how he would probably seek out the blood of his loved ones first. The one he loved most… Sam… Dean tried to remind himself though if everything went according to plan then that wouldn’t happen. He’d be cured and afterwards the bitch that had done this to him would get a nice shiny silver bullet through her brain and heart.

For now however he had a part to play, so when he felt her hand on his thigh he merely smiled rather than flinching away from the touch. When she practically climbed into his lap, he slipped his arms around her slim waist and held her rather than shoving her away. And when her lips brushed his he closed his eyes and imagined it was Sam he was kissing as he devoured her mouth without restraint.

* * *

It was one thing seeing Cassandra make a move on Dean, bad enough... but a whole nuther when it was Dean jumping into it with the enthusiasm of a fucking werewolf in heat. Sam’s mouth opened, but suddenly he felt a hand clamped over it. His eyes widened, met Bobby’s fierce look.

His heart raced, anger boiling his blood, and at the same time he was trying to figure out if there was a deeper meaning behind the look in the older hunter’s eyes. He nodded his understanding and was released.

As soon as Bobby moved away, Sam looked again. Cassandra’s hands were all over Dean, his chest, his thighs... then between their bodies. He heard a couple of all too familiar moans and was ready to shoot Dean himself. Clenching his teeth together, he struggled for control, his nostrils flaring.

Pulling back, Cassandra slapped Dean, then leaned in again, claiming his lips, tearing at his clothes. “More, give me more, I know you can,” she snarled in his ear, her hand shifting, fingers and bones cracking, extending. She used the claws to tear his shirt off, shredding it and throwing it off him. “Show me what you got,” she ground her hips over his.

Some of the other wolves went inside the cave. Others watched as history was made for their clan.

* * *

Dean had been expecting the aggressiveness. She’d been that way since the first time she’d made her attentions known to him. She’d practically maul him trying to make him react the way she wanted him to, though she never went so far as to try to force him.

He was a little surprised however when she backhanded him hard enough to split his lip, then crushed her lips over his licking away his blood and practically tongue fucking his mouth. When his fingers tangled roughly in her hair, practically breaking the fragile strands with his harsh grip, it was instinct. To push her away from him… but he couldn’t do that.

He was here to distract her. To distract the other wolves, so that Sam and his Father could take them down easier. Some of the werewolves had already left, presumably to give them a little more “privacy” though others continued to watch on.

She wanted more? They wanted a show? Fine. He would give them a show.

He smelled the change happening in her, how her scent became more wolf-like. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Anger, not lust, but it would do. He felt the change in himself, just like he had shifted when the other werewolf had challenged him. Her claws bit into his skin when she tore his shirt off, and he growled viciously in reply. His own claws lengthening as he grabbed her hard and pushed them both out of the chair and onto the ground. He easily pinned her down with his greater strength as he kissed her savagely, his teeth cutting her lips, drawing blood. Again, thinking of Sam as he claimed her in a way… he could never claim his own mate…

The wolf in him knew what she wanted. She was the alpha female of the pack, but if he wanted to be the alpha male, he had to win this challenge just like he’d won the other against the rival male. His claws tore at her clothing, revealing more skin, and he growled deep in his chest as he sunk his teeth hard into her bare shoulder. Marking her… the way he so desperately wanted to mark Sam… like she had marked him…

* * *

The blood drained from Sam’s face. He wanted to shout, to rail, to fucking beat the crap out of someone, or both of them. He wanted to shove Bobby away, and Connall, both of them were looking at him, like they knew, or guessed, or worried. He breathed through his mouth, trying to force down the hurt. Last... just last night... he and Dean...

He guessed it didn’t mean much when the werewolf competition appeared. He tasted blood seconds before Connall was next to him, telling him to swallow it... that he could smell it. Sam licked his lips, refusing to look at the man.

“That’s it, yes,” Cassandra growled, arching up off the ground as her clothing fell off her body. “That’s it lover,” her legs went around his waist. Her nails raked his back as she lifted her hips, the sounds she made growing louder and louder.

Sam was so tense, he thought he was gonna snap into two by the time his dad tapped his shoulder. On the count of three.

Jaw clenched tight, he nodded. At his dad’s signal, they walked out the trees, shooting, spreading the bullets, aiming to kill. Howling sounds filled the air, and snarls. There were whimpers as werewolves went down.

Bobby shouted at Sam to drive a parked jeep up to the entrance of the cave. He wanted to go after Cassandra, but his dad and Connall were closer, and he knew what Bobby wanted. As the older hunter covered him, Sam went and got under the dash and finding the wires, got the ignition going. A few seconds later, he gunned the car and hit the brakes hard as he turned the steering wheel hard. As the jeep started to roll, he dove out, crawling out of the way. It came to a halt in front of the cave, making it more difficult for the werewolves inside to come out.

Bobby lit up a couple of homemade Malakoff cocktails and tossed them inside. Then they were fighting to kill the rest of the wolves. Sam fighting to get closer to where Dean and Cassandra were rolling around the ground. A wolf took a swipe at him, claws tearing into his cheek. He didn’t make a sound, but aimed, shot, aimed again, and shot.

* * *

The sounds of the gunshots startled him almost as much as the rest of the werewolves. When Dean sat up he snarled before he realized what was happening and a bit of the wildness slipped away. A bit of clarity returning to his thoughts when he saw his dad, and bobby… and Sam…

He felt Cassandra attempting to untangle herself from him. Probably trying to go to the aid of her pack mates… as she probably expected him to do as well… well, the bitch was going to have another surprise coming. With a growl of rage Dean grabbed her and tackled her back to the ground. Her eyes were wild with confusion first, then understanding, and finally a rage to match his own, and of course she fought back.

She was much older than the other werewolf Dean had fought, and much stronger. Dean was barely able to keep a hold of her and keep her from ripping his throat out at the same time. But he had the advantage of being a man with size on his side, and that still meant something. When he had been just a human, she would have beaten him easily. But now that he was one of them, she couldn’t overpower him.

It was with no small amount of satisfaction when he finally managed to get a hold of a large rock, slamming it across her temple hard enough to knock her senseless and she finally went limp in his arms. With many of the werewolves trapped inside of the cave by the truck and fire, the three skilled hunters managed to gun down many of the werewolves that had been left outside.

That was when he saw the werewolf get close enough to Sam to draw blood, and Dean literally saw red. Leaving the unconscious Cassandra on the ground Dean leapt to his feet to go to his brother’s aid. His only thought to help Sam. To keep his brother safe…

Before the wolf could leap onto Sam Dean tackled the beast to the ground. His claws ripping out the werewolf’s throat with one swipe. As it clawed at its own throat, gurgling and choking on its own blood, Dean growled in satisfaction and stood. Or he tried to, but the agonizing pain in his side he hadn’t realized until now, had him falling back to his knees, clutching at his stomach. When he pulled his hands away they were dark red with blood. His own… From the bullet wound in his abdomen…

* * *

Anger and outrage at the betrayal fueled Cassandra as she struggled to kill or at least maim her ungrateful chosen. He was strong, stronger than he should, probably because he had been strong for a human. Her hand closed in on his throat, she tried to shift full, to go werewolf, but the instant she wasted seconds of concentration, something heavy hit her in the temple and the lights went out.

One minute Sam was shooting the werewolf attacking him, the next Dean was in the mix. Sam didn’t have time to pull his finger from the trigger or redirect the barrel of his rifle. He knew he’d gotten one or both of them... saw them roll on the ground, and then the werewolf lay still, it’s throat ripped out.

“Dean,” Sam started heading to go to him, eyes wide at the realization he’d shot Dean... he really had. And then hard hands were on his shoulders, and before he pushed the butt of the gun into them, he realized it was his dad, pushing him toward Bobby. He started to push Bobby away, when the hunter told him to let John and Connall make sure Dean was Dean, and to help him with Cassandra, now.

The burning wreck barricading the mouth of the cave was being rocked forward. More wolves would descend soon. Sam stopped arguing and started doing as he was told. Bobby hefted Cassandra up, and Sam took her from him.

He saw that Connall had an arm around Dean and was helping him walk into the forrest, which he guessed made sense, in case Dean did get violent, like the other hunters worried. Still, a part of him wanted to be the one to get Dean out of here, and not to be the one carrying the bitch that started all this. As gentle as he’d been when he ran with Dean on his shoulder when they’d rescued him, he pretty much didn’t care that he was letting Cassandra bang against trees and he didn’t give a damn that Bobby saw it... or that he was giving him a decidedly questioning look. The bitch deserved it, for what she did to Dean, and to others.

Soon he was only following Connall and Dean, with Bobby and John having dropped behind them. Gunshots told him they were being followed and that the two hunters were taking care of it. He started to move faster.

When they reached the cars, his eyes met Dean’s... just for a moment, then he was at Bobby’s truck, securing Cassandra’s arms and legs with silver coated cuffs. Just as he pulled a tarp over her, his dad and Bobby came out of the wood, rushing everyone into the vehicles.

*

They drove for hours, crossing and driving through water several times to make it harder for the werewolves to track them. Sam wasn’t too surprised when they ended up at a large farmhouse instead of the motel. The reason his dad had tossed their stuff in the back of the car now made sense.

They drove the vehicles into the old barn and then moved to the farmhouse itself. Sam stubbornly refused to let Connall be the one who helped Dean walk the distance, putting his shoulder under his brother’s arm and half lifting him. When they were just a little away from the others, he stole a sidelong glance at Dean. “I’m sorry... bout the ....” he let out a breath as his gaze feel to the wound seeping blood down Dean’s bare stomach.

His father was yelling at them to hurry, and Sam obeyed. Inside, he helped Dean to a faded sofa and Bobby kneeled next to him, ready to work the bullet out. Connall secured the still unconscious Cassandra in the same room since they couldn’t afford to let her out of their sight, and then dad was telling Sam to go get cleaned up.

It wasn’t until his dad spoke that Sam realized he had blood all over him, some Dean’s, some his own. So did the others, it had been a hard fought battle. Taking one more look at Dean, he headed to the kitchen and did his best, changing his shirt before he came back to lean against the door, looking out the window, and occasionally at Dean as he was bandaged up by Bobby.

* * *

Dean had been shot more times than he really cared to remember, but he swore right now he couldn’t remember it hurting this much. While he’d probably thought that every single time he was shot, this time he thought it might be true. The silver bullet lodged deep in his flesh burning worse than acid pouring through his stomach, but at least the pain had brought him back to his senses a little.

He felt his claws disappear and his teeth return to their normal length. But even as some of his thoughts grew clearer as the wolf inside of him went back to sleep, the pain and blood loss was making it hard for him to understand what was going on around him. He didn’t know the hands that were suddenly grabbing him and dragging him to his feet. He was really too weak to struggle, but he probably still might have if he didn’t smell Sam close by. His brother’s scent reassuring him that everything would be all right. He trusted Sam…

The fact that a part of him knew Sam had been the one to shoot him in the first place didn’t seem to make a difference.

The run through the woods was one big blur. Dean stumbled more times than he could count, and really it was only the surprisingly strong grip on him, urging him on, and Sam that he kept going at all instead of just sinking to the forest floor and not moving. While he knew the shot to his abdomen wouldn’t kill him… at least not right away… the silver bullet inside of him was agony and if it wasn’t removed it probably _would_ eventually kill him. Hell, he’d nearly died once just from stupidly wearing his silver ring and pendant.

Dean was more than ready to stop when the man supporting him leaned him up against the truck, the metal feeling surprisingly warm against his bare back. Or maybe he was just so damned cold… he didn’t realize he was shaking. From shock or blood loss or both. His vision was more than a little fuzzy at that point, but he managed to focus on his brother when Sam ran by and despite the situation just seeing Sam eased his mind. Made the pain a little more tolerable. Then he was being manhandled into his father’s truck across the bench seat in the back, and more than a few choice curses left his lips before he was finally settled.

His father’s concerned expression in the rear view mirror swam in and out of focus as they drove. Sometimes he heard his father talking, ordering him to put pressure on the wound, and he obeyed without thought. He must have still lost consciousness at some point because he was startled awake some unknown time later as he was being dragged out of the truck.

A growl of pain escaped his lips and if he didn’t smell Sam _right_ there, knowing it was his brother’s arms around him supporting him, he probably would have protested the manhandling a lot more. Instead he simply let his brother support his weight and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

Dean only grunted softly in reply to Sam’s words.

He thought he might have blacked out again when he was finally allowed to rest on the couch, but he was awake again instantly with a cry of pain when he felt the digging around in his wound. Dean snarled and nearly knocked Bobby away from him, but his father’s hands on his shoulders and the older man’s voice telling him to stay still, that it was almost over, they needed to get the bullet out, calmed him enough to remain still. Not that it did anything for the pain, but once the bullet was finally out, the flask of hard liquor pressed to his lips as the other hunter bandaged up his stomach helped a little with that.

Once his stomach was bandaged they finally let him lay down on the couch and he was more than grateful for it. His eyes slid closed as he let the liquor do its work in dulling the pain, though really, it felt a hell of a lot better now that the silver was out of him. He knew the wound would probably start to heal quickly now that the bullet was out. It would just take time.

Practically able to feel his brother’s eyes on him, Dean forced his eyes to drag open despite how tired he felt. Looking at the younger man, Dean tried to give Sam a reassuring smile, even though it probably came out as more of a grimace. 

* * *

Watching over Dean, Sam let out a breath when after maybe a short rest or nap, his brother opened his eyes and gave him what could pass for a smile. He lifted his chin in a nod, silently communicating he was relieved that Dean was... would be fine.

Though the farmhouse was large, the room was entirely too crowded. Dad had just walked in to say there was no sign of being followed and Bobby and Connall were at the dining room table going over something. Course what made the room feel crowded to Sam was Cassandra's presence. Each time a moan escaped her, he tensed. He couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of 'pheromone exchange' happening between her and Dean. Right... one of them was out cold, and the other might as well be, but he couldn't help wondering. He'd seen more than enough.

Turning to look out the window, he pressed his lips together, trying to quiet down all the various worries and feelings clamoring inside his head. They... he needed to focus, to get this thing done and over with. Get Dean healed, get him in control over his wolf... or however much control he could get over it, and then see where things stood. He heard Cassandra again, and his hackles rose.

"Son, give me a hand with this."

Sam turned and walked to his dad who had brought additional chains to hold Cassandra. She was waking and started to curse them, then she started to call for Dean.

"Make them stop. They're going to kill you, they hate all of us. Dean you know it's true, Dean, Dean."

Sam jabbed his elbow into her face and forced the material of the shirt he'd taken off into her mouth, even after his dad yelled at him to be careful, afraid he'd be bitten. Then there was the disappointed look, but Sam didn't give a fuck. He didn't want to hear Dean's name from her mouth one more time. Roughly, he secured the material, uncaring that some of her long hair was tied up in the knot.

Once they were done with her, he saw additional chains. HIs gaze went to his father, then to Dean, the back. "He doesn't need them."

* * *

Dean frowned a little at Sam’s reaction... or more accurately... lack of reaction. Sam didn’t come over to him, didn’t talk to him, hell, the younger man wasn’t even looking at him right now. He didn’t like it. Not one damned bit. He didn’t like Sam all the way across the room, he wanted Sam here, beside him. He wanted to touch his brother, make sure Sam was all right...

He tried to sit up, tried to go to Sam if Sam wouldn’t come to him. But the pain in his stomach and the way his head started to spin before he even rose two inches from the couch was enough to convince him to just lay still. With a groan, Dean let his head fall back against the arm of the couch with a dull thud.

The sound of his father’s voice drew Dean’s attention and he watched impassively as they handled Cassandra. Chaining her up much like she’d kept _him_ chained up for months. When she started begging him, _him_ , to make them stop what they were doing, going to do, to her, Dean almost laughed. He did not feel the least bit of remorse or pity for her. She was the one who had captured him, forced him into those pit matches where he’d had to kill other men, just like him, in order to stay alive. She was the one who had ordered him beaten, had kept him a prisoner for six fucking months, had starved him and tortured him. Until finally they had pinned him down and she had bitten him, turned him into a monster, no matter how loudly _he’d_ begged her not to.

No, he didn’t feel the least bit of pity for her. A slight smile curved his lips when Sam elbowed the bitch in the face and gagged her. She should feel really fucking lucky that after they used her for that spell Dean planned on killing her rather quickly instead of putting her through even a fraction of what she’d put him through.

Dean felt his eyes beginning to drift closed again, exhaustion pulling him back under even though he fought against it. He almost missed the words being spoken between his father and Sam.

John Winchester sighed as Sam predictably protested them using the same kind of restraints on Dean as they used on Cassandra. He certainly did not want to chain his older son up any more than Sam did, but they could not take the risk.

“He attacked you, Sam. You saw him with...” John didn’t elaborate, merely nodding down at their struggling captive. “You know we can’t take the risk. He’s healing rapidly. This is as much for his protection as ours.”

“We’ve got bigger things to worry about.” Bobby said gravely as he reentered the living room, followed closely by Conall.

“The ritual needs to be done tonight. Tomorrow might be too late. But there is a problem.” Conall began once he had the attention of the other men. “Dean’s injury, it will not kill him, but the silver and the blood loss has weakened him severely and I do not believe he will be fully recovered before the night is over. The ritual is... can be... He may be already too weak to endure it. In his weakened state it might kill him.”

* * *

Sam didn’t like the reminder that Dean had knocked him out and run to the wolf pack. To her. His eyes darkened, but he kept his mouth shut, gritting his teeth together.

His dad’s insistence on chains might make sense, if he hadn’t seen Dean come to his defense in the middle of the fight. Then again, he couldn’t deny that Dean was mercurial... he struck him one moment, and then helped him the next. His gaze slid to his brother on the sofa, indecision warring within him.

Then Bobby and Connall came in with their news, could it get any worse? And by his own hand? Fuck...

Running his hand through his hair, he looked at the two men. “Transfusion?” Dammit, that would mean getting Dean to the hospital and... yeah that was out of the question. “Are you sure it can’t wait, that we can’t do it tomorrow, or even after this cycle?”

The look on Connall’s face gave Sam the answer, one he did not like. He slammed his fist into the wall, then shook it out as the welcomed pain reverberated up his arm. After all this, all this... so fucking close and it could all slip away. All his own fault.

“Screw the ritual. We’ll just... once a month, three days, we... I’ll watch over him.” That had been the plan if they couldn’t cure him anyway, and wasn’t it better than risking Dean’s life like that. Deep down, Sam knew what Dean’s choice would be, but he couldn’t face it just yet. 

* * *

Dean could tell that Sam was upset. Even if he couldn’t clearly see it, he could smell it. To be honest, Dean was rather upset too when their father insisted that they chain him up. Dad thought he was dangerous. Dad thought he was going to hurt Sam. He should know by now, damn it. His father should know that he could never hurt Sammy. Never… he’d rather kill himself than hurt his brother… Sam knew that… didn’t he?

But Sam wasn’t arguing with their dad. He wasn’t insisting that Dean didn’t need to be chained up for ‘his own protection’. Did Sam think he would hurt him? Well… he supposed he had hurt Sam when he’d knocked the younger man out, but he hadn’t wanted to do that. He had only wanted to protect Sam, and Dad, and Bobby. They wouldn’t have just let him go in first if he’d asked nicely. He had to create a distraction, and he had. It had worked, hadn’t it?

He wanted to explain all this to the other men, but he was so damned tired he couldn’t even open his eyes. Damn it. He couldn’t sleep now! He had to explain to Sam…

They were still talking. Something about the ritual. The reason why they’d needed Cassandra in the first place. Weakened… might kill him… it might kill him? Because he was too weak? No… no god damn it! He wasn’t too weak. He’d been prepared before not to do it, because it would have been too dangerous for Dad, Bobby, and Sam. Now they wanted to stop because they thought it would be too dangerous for _him_?!

“No.” He finally managed to force out weakly, wrenching his eyes open somehow despite the pull of unconsciousness. They didn’t get to decide this for him. It was his life, god damn it. His choice. “No. Doing it.”

* * *

All of the men in the room turned toward Dean, as the hunter made his choice. None of them would or could counter it, though none of them were pleased. There just were no good options.

There was silence for a moment, then it was as if all hell broke loose. Connall and Bobby left to prepare the ritual site, with John to follow when he was done. John picked up the chains, and didn't ask his younger son again, instead striding to where Dean lay on the sofa. Sam couldn't hear what his dad said, but he saw Dean complying with his dad's request for his wrists. Slowly, walking with leaden feet he dropped down on the ground next to his brother.

Eyes apologetic, he took Dean's other wrist and locked the cuff loosely around it. By the time he moved to his ankle, he saw his dad check the bracelet, and tighten it, giving him a dark look. His return gaze to his father held no apology.

Then their dad was telling them it would only be a few hours, to hang on, and instructing Sam to watch over Dean. As if he needed that instruction. Once his dad left out the front door, Sam reached for the water, and sat on the sofa, next to Dean's head. Seeing his brother lift up, he moved slightly, so Dean could lay with his head pillowed on Sam's lap.

So many emotions were raging through Sam, he could barely put two words together. When he did, it was to say. "I don't want you to die." His throat felt raw, his eyes stung with unshed tears. His hand slightly shook, so he pressed it flat against the seat of the couch, licking his lips as he wondered whether Dean even heard him.

* * *

Dean hadn’t wanted his father to put the chains on him, but he was simply too tired to argue or reason with the older man. He still felt trapped and uneasy the second the metal rings were locked around his wrists. It seemed to always come back to this. Chains. Bars. Imprisonment. Helplessness. It had been his life for six months, perhaps he should have been used to it by now. But he wasn’t.

He was kind of glad when their father left. So he could be alone with Sam… well, as alone as they could be with the bitch in the room with them. Dean could feel her eyes on him but thankfully the gag kept her from saying anything. He just wanted to pretend she wasn’t there.

Dean smiled a little when Sam helped him to put his head in his brother’s lap. He felt much more comfortable this way, even with the chains. Being so close to his brother. He turned his head towards Sam’s stomach and breathed in his brother’s scent deeply. Brother, lover… mate…

At Sam’s words, Dean forced his eyes open again. He hadn’t even realized they’d closed in the first place. He still had trouble focusing but at least he could look at Sam. He wished he could touch Sam too, with his hands, but the cuffs around his wrists wouldn’t let him raise his arms any higher than his waist.

“Not going to die.” Dean managed in a soft whisper, smiling a little in reassurance up at his brother. 

* * *

Sam tried to smile back, but it was more grimace than smile. What else was Dean supposed to say, anyway? He was Dean, brave to the last. He’d spit into the eyes of the enemy, even with his heart pressed to a barrel. It didn’t make Sam feel better, not now.

“Connall said…” he licked his lips. “Dean if you don’t want to do this, its okay with me, you know? We’d just… this time of the month, take measures. It could work out.” His leg bounced nervously under Dean, and when he realized he was moving like that, he stopped himself. “I’m serious Dean, maybe a sure thing is better than taking a chance.”

He took a couple breaths and looked over at the bitch who’d done this to Dean. Either way, she was going to get her heart cut out. Either way. 

* * *

Dean couldn’t help being a little pissed off at Sam’s words.

He knew that Sam was just afraid. For him. Just as he would be afraid for his brother if their positions were reversed. Actually, it had been reversed. When they’d first heard what Connall could do for him, when they’d found out they’d need Cassandra for the ritual to take place, when he’d tried to say no because it would be too dangerous for his family… but Sam had made him say yes.

“I didn’t want to do it before… to keep you safe. You wouldn’t let me say no. You don’t get to change your mind now, Sammy…” Dean said wearily, offering the younger man a slight smile though it probably didn’t soften the sting of his words.

Dean tried to lift his hand to touch his brother, but he forgot he was chained and cursed softly under his breath.

“I wanna touch you…”

* * *

Sam had expected something else. Reassurance. Maybe some confirmation that Dean knew what he was doing, risking. That he'd rather take the risk than.... But not the sharp words that had him turning away to hide the hurt in his eyes. "You weren't... I hadn't shot you then, you weren't weak," he said softly, wondering why he tried. Ever since they'd left the lodge, something hadn't been quite right between them. Just slightly at odds, different ways of doing things... ideas not quite jibing.

Maybe the reason sat right there in the corner. The moon had an effect on wolves. So did the pack leader. Maybe that's why dad insisted on restraints, because one moment Dean might be totally against her and the next...

Yeah, his mind went to that scene that played out in front of him in the woods. Dean taking a helping of alpha bitch, and it hadn't been any acting, Sam thought he could tell if it had been. More importantly, she would have. His jaw clenched.

Then Dean pushed him over the edge with his request, and Sam snapped. "You sure its not _her_ you want to touch, Dean?" His eyes bore into his brother's greens.

* * *

Dean sighed heavily when Sam was predictably obtuse and completely missing his point. He wondered if his brother really didn’t get it or if he was just being a pain in the ass. Telling him it was different before because _he_ hadn’t been shot. Because _he_ wasn’t weak. Now that _he_ was the one in danger, Sam didn’t want to go through the ritual. Because of course Sam didn’t even consider his father or himself getting bitten or ripped apart by a pack of werewolves a good enough reason not to do the ritual...

Whatever. It didn’t matter. They were doing it. No one had tried to stop him or tried to talk him out of it when he said he was still going to go through with the ritual. Soon it would all be over...

Sam’s sudden angry retort surprised Dean however, and his eyes widened as he stared up into his brother’s eyes. The younger man glaring down at him like he was trying to drill holes through his skull with his gaze alone.

Maybe any other time Sam acting like a friggen jealous girlfriend would have amused or only irritated him. Right now it was like a punch to the gut though. He couldn’t believe that Sam was actually _jealous_ of that bitch. Hadn’t he already proved to Sam enough that he was the only one he wanted? God damn it.

“No. I’ve never wanted _her_. Love you. You should know that.” Dean finally replied quietly, too drained to even try to hide the hurt in his voice or his expression that Sam’s doubt in him caused. “Only did it to keep you safe. Only went there... distraction... knew you wouldn’t understand...”

Dean tried to explain but he was just too tired, he could barely string any words together without slurring, and he would probably only piss Sam off more if he tried to explain. He let out a weary sigh and finally turned his eyes away from Sam. Staring blankly up at the ceiling above, his eyes growing heavier by the second and he finally stopped trying to fight against them closing. 

* * *

“Then maybe you should have talked to me about it instead of knocking me the fuck out and then...” he waved his hand in the air, gesturing even as anger crept through his veins at the though of Dean and that bitch moving over each other like eels in heat. Not eels, wolves. His gut clenched so hard, he thought he might throw up. That was when he saw Cassandra’s eyes on him.

He stared right back, his eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring as he realized she was silently claiming Dean as hers, and that he wouldn’t let her. He dropped his hand, almost roughly onto Dean’s chest, over his heart, fingers digging slightly into his flesh. He lifted his chin... wouldn’t have been surprised if a snarl broke from him.

In that moment, Sam went from being pawn to enemy, as far as Cassandra was concerned. Oh she was tied up, and might not be able to do much at the moment, but she was sure what was left of her pack would come for her, or she’d break free... or she’d exercise more power over her mate as night fell. And that one there, the one who dared think he could take her place, he would die. 

* * *

Dean had fallen into an uneasy sleep. He found no peace from the fears and worries that plagued him when he was awake, they followed him right into his dreams.

Sam was angry with him. Furious even. He supposed Sam had every reason to be. He’d tried to tell Sam… but his brother wasn’t listening and Sam’s doubt of his love for him hurt. But the fact that Sam didn’t want to even touch him… that Dean could die tonight, and Sam would rather be angry with him than touch or kiss him… that hurt even worse.

He was afraid, damned afraid, of what might happen tonight. He was afraid of dying, sure, but he was more afraid of the ritual not working at all. If it didn’t work… he would turn tonight. Turn completely. What if he went after his brother, his father, or Bobby? What if they couldn’t stop him? Couldn’t keep him contained? What if he hurt… or killed… one of them…

Fuck, he was so damned afraid. But Sam had denied him any form of comfort and Dean slept fitfully. His brow furrowed and moaning softly in his sleep. 

* * *

“Dean, you alright?” Sam whispered, feeling the way Dean was restless, making sounds in his sleep... not happy ones. “Dean?” His brother didn’t open his eyes, and Sam didn’t insist, but he smoothed his forehead, checking for fever, and then just stroking him.

Her gaze. It was always on him. Wild. Angry. Knowing. Possessive.

No dammit, Dean wasn’t hers. He fought off the images that continued to sow doubts in his mind. He knew, deep down he knew what Dean had said, what he wanted. But could he fight nature?

Almost rebelliously, he leaned down to kiss Dean just when the door opened. His lips grazed his brother’s forehead, and he got up. “No temperature,” he said, feeling a flush stealing up his cheeks. Dad AND Bobby. Just great.

Sam gave them his most innocent look, but Dean was the one better at that. “What’s...”

“It’s time, son. We’ll get her outside, you bring Dean. He alright?”

Sam knew by his dad’s body language that their dad meant ‘under control’ in addition to inquiring about his health. “Yeah, he’s fine. I’ll bring him.”

His dad came over, undid the chain but left the cuffs on and walked out, letting the door bang behind him.

“Dean,” Sam shook him again, then cupped his face. “It’s... it’s time...” his voice shook, though he tried to keep it together. “Don’t you forget your promise Dean, I need you,” he said, Goddamned tears pricking his eyes when he needed them the least.

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d slept, but he found himself woken rather abruptly when his ‘pillow’ suddenly abruptly removed itself from underneath his head. The string of tired curses he muttered as his head thumped back against the lumpy arm of the couch drowned out by the sound of his father’s and brother’s voices, then the sounds of a scuffle, and the slamming of a door.

He blinked his eyes open when he felt the light touch to his cheek, confusion flickering in their depths as he struggled to focus on Sam. His head not feeling a whole hell of a lot clearer than it had before. Though his stomach didn’t hurt quite as badly as he remembered, he was still exhausted as hell and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Then, remembering his dreams… filled with Sam’s blood and his brother’s eyes both accusing and angry while Dean gutted him… he decided sleep was probably the last thing he really wanted despite what his body might think otherwise.

Dean blinked up at Sam, still a little confused, recent memories still a little slow swimming into focus, before he finally remembered. The ritual. It was time? Already? Dean’s eyes flickered away from his brother’s face briefly towards the window. From the angle of the light he could tell it was nearly sunset… he’d been asleep for a few hours at least then… it wouldn’t be long before the sun went down. Before the moon would rise… he could feel it…

Dean swallowed hard, his gut clenching with fear, but he tried to hide that fear from his brother as he turned his face back to Sam’s. He could see the same fear he felt in Sam’s eyes, could hear it in the way his brother’s voice shook. Sam was barely holding it together, so that meant Dean had to. He tried to offer his brother a reassuring smile. He was just glad that Sam wasn’t looking at him hard angry eyes anymore. Dean knew he couldn’t bear it if those angry words and looks were the last moments they shared together.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered softly, raising his hands, even though they were still chained together at least they weren’t connected to the ankle chains anymore and he could touch Sam. He needed to touch Sam. Dean brushed his fingers gently over his brother’s cheek.

“I’m sorry…” Dean whispered, his fingers lingering a little on the bruise he’d given Sam when he’d knocked his brother out. “I love you, Sammy. Only you. I promise. Please don’t forget that. Promise me… if it doesn’t work… If I turn and… you won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.” 

* * *

  
_Not going anywhere._ The words echoed in Sam's mind, over and over as he tried to believe them. Tried to tell himself they'd been through so much already, there was only a little ways to go, and it would be fine. When Dean touched his cheek, Sam's eyes fluttered closed. He thought Dean was gonna kiss him. Right there. And he wanted it too, even if it would be foolish as hell. Dad. Bobby. Connal...

He licked his lips, slowly opening his eyes when the kiss never came. Instead his brother was trying to smooth away the bruises. He didn't get that the bruises didn't count, it was the pain in his heart, in his gut that gave Sam the most trouble.

A lump rose in his throat as Dean assured him of his love. Yeah, he knew Dean loved him, knew it. It wasn't his love he'd really doubted, just nature. But this would take care of that, right? Probably. "Won't forget, Dean, love you too," he whispered desperately, pulling Dean close and stepping back against the wall, between the door and window where they wouldn't be seen, so long as no one walked in. He felt his brother's body collide against his. Felt his warmth seeping through his clothes. Knew he should apologize for not having minded his injury, but right now... it was secondary.

Dean's request had Sam looking down for a moment, then back. "Dean you're not going to hurt me. I promise you, you're not," he said, tilting his head slightly, almost grimacing at the thought of Dean asking him to. "Look, you're not gonna, Dean. But if something happens... if... I'll protect myself," he nodded, jaw clenched tight. "I think... I think this is the part where you kiss me." He didn't want any more talk, which was strange for him, but he couldn't go out there an emotional basketcase. "Love you Dean... whatever happens. I love you," he started to pull Dean even closer, gaze locked on his mouth."

* * *

Dean grunted in discomfort when Sam hauled him to his feet, and while he had to lean heavily on the younger man to remain standing, the pain definitely wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Whatever pain he was feeling though was nothing compared to the fear and desperation in his brother’s eyes.

When Sam drew him close, away from the doors and windows, Dean certainly didn’t care about the almost rough movement. He only cared that Sam _was_ pulling him close, not pushing him away. Hearing his brother promise he wouldn’t forget. Hearing Sam say he loved him… It was all he wanted, all he needed to hear.

Well, that and Sam’s promise that he wouldn’t let Dean hurt him, no matter what. When his brother finally gave it, Dean sighed and looped his chained arms around the younger man’s neck. Letting Sam draw him in even closer.

“Yeah, it is.” He agreed, pressing his lips to Sam’s. Softly at first but quickly deepening their kiss till it was nearly bruising. Desperately twining his tongue with his brother’s and clutching at the younger man till they were both breathless. 

* * *

The light touch of Dean’s lips wasn’t enough, but when his brother pushed his tongue inside his mouth and deepened it, Sam groaned softly, arms tightening around Dean’s shoulders. Opening his mouth, he tangled his tongue with Dean’s, sensing and echoing Dean’s desperation.

No matter how much Sam tried to shut it out of his mind, he knew… knew this could be the _last_ time… that he could lose his brother, not in just one way but in may. Dean might not be able to withstand the harshness of the ritual, or it might not work and things could play out with a deadly end even if Sam did everything in his power to prevent that, or Dean could come out of this _different_ … no one knew what would happen. And then if everything did go right, if the ritual somehow went so far as to cleanse Dean of every aspect of him affected by the werewolf he was becoming, then there was a damned good chance Dean’s feelings would be reset. Brother he might handle, lover might disgust him.

Fear for Dean, and for this strange love they’d found clenched around Sam’s heart. He held onto Dean that much tighter, kissing him with everything he had, wanting… willing him to remember, to want to live for this, to want to come back… to this.

When he heard the crunch of footsteps from outside, he broke the kiss and started pulling Dean toward the door. His eyes slid over his brother’s slightly swollen lips, and he licked his own, tasting Dean. He had to fight the crazy idea of taking his brother, just making him get in the car and disappearing with him. Sliding his hand into Dean’s for a sec, he squeezed, then opened the door and helped Dean outside, hoping the darkness would cover any signs of their reddened lips.

His breaths were still a little labored as they approached their dad. Sam looked down, but he’d already caught his dad’s scowl. Nothing new there. He looked up into the nights sky... moon wasn't up yet, but it would be pretty soon. He turned his head toward Dean to see if he was feeling any effects, like the other night, when he'd gone to some place between the two states, but he looked okay. “You alright?” Then their father was on Dean’s other side, and Sam couldn’t help thinking it was because the elder Winchester expected trouble.

* * *

Breaking their kiss was the last thing Dean wanted to do. Damn the others waiting for them. Damn anyone who might see them. Damn the rising moon he could _feel_ tugging something deep and primal inside him. All he wanted to do was keep touching Sam, keep holding Sam, and never let him go… He knew his wish was foolish and stupid. This wasn’t some fairy tale where all their problems would magically vanish as long as they just loved each other enough. Everything had been leading up to this moment, and now it was time to face the conclusion, whatever it may be…

He let Sam pull away from him and lead him to the door, not that his brother gave him much of a choice in the matter. Dean leaned into his brother’s weight, letting the younger man support him so he could conserve his strength. If what Connal said was true, then he was going to need it.

Sam’s fingers finding his and squeezing in encouragement had him smiling, just a little, however his smile slipped from his face instantly once they were outside. John Winchester waiting on them, and not looking pleased that he’d had to come back for them.

For a moment their father met his eyes and he saw fear in them. Perhaps fearing, as Sam did, that what Connal said was true. He might be too weak to endure the ritual and he was about to watch his son die. But before Dean could even think of something to say that might reassure the older man, even if it didn’t reassure himself, determination replaced the look in his father’s eyes and the older man merely moved to his other side to help support him.

He gave his brother a small nod in answer to his question he wasn’t even sure if the younger man could see. The sun had sunk down into the horizon, leaving only the darkening purple sky above, the stars alone certainly not enough light to see by. At least, it wouldn’t be for Sam and his father, Dean knew. He could see quite clearly however.

John didn’t lead them far into the surrounding woods, but it was just far enough to make the night seem even darker somehow. The light of the small fire in the middle of the clearing seemed overly bright by comparison. Everything was already set up. Dean could see Cassandra kneeling, still in chains, at the edge of the clearing. Bobby had a gun pressed to the back of her head, silver bullets, Dean had little doubt.

Connal was kneeling in front of an intricately drawn design on the forest floor. The symbols Dean didn’t recognize, but somehow just looking at them made his stomach churn in discomfort. Four large stakes were driven deep into the edges of the circle, more chains attached to them. His muscles tensed. A cold fear coiling in his gut. An instinctual fight or flight instinct. His father seemed to have anticipated this and held onto him a little tighter. Like Dean could possibly run with the chains binding his ankles.

“It’s alright son.” John Winchester tried to reassure, trying to move Dean forward, and Dean tried to relax, tried to move, but his muscles all froze in fear. When his father tried to pull on him again, Dean began to struggle. His heart rate and breathing speeding up. Panicked.

“No!” He shouted, trying to break his father’s grip on him, but his weakness and the chains prevented him. Dean didn’t know why he was afraid… no terrified… but he was.

“Sam, help me get him into the circle!” John said, trying to drag his resisting son forward. 

* * *

By the time they neared the clearing, Sam had gotten a hold of his emotions. He wasn't going to fail Dean, not now, not when it counted. The sight of Cassandra on her knees and with Bobby ready to execute her if she gave him trouble should have warmed his heart. It didn't.

Instead, his eyes were on the chains tied to the four stakes. If that wasn't for Cassandra… if that was for Dean… If he was going to be spread-eagled. The possibility had Sam reeling. He remembered how Dean had reacted to just cuffs, how he'd initially reacted to the cage at the cabin, he knew how much Dean hated even the chains he was wearing now. His brother submitted because he wanted them to be safe, but months of imprisonment by that bitch right there… months of being chained up like an animal had left its scar on his psyche, and his first instinct was to reject and get the hell away from more chains.

Dean must have realized at the same moment what the chains meant because he suddenly stopped. Dad tried to get him to keep going, and got the opposite result. Dean was fighting to get away. One look at his face and Sam could read the panic in his eyes. "Dean… Dean…" His brother was still fighting their dad, trying to pull away.

"Dad, let him go." Sam linked his arm through Dean's, wrapping his around Dean's and holding his upper arm firmly, but moving to stand so he was almost facing him. "Dad, please," he insisted, eyes drilling into his father's who reluctantly released Dean. Now it was Sam holding Dean in place.

"Dean, look at me. Dean, look at me." When their gazes locked, he spoke in a low, calm voice. "You wanted this, the ritual. If we're gonna do it, it's now. Now or never Dean, and if you say we walk away, then we walk away." He practically sensed his dad's hackles rising, but didn't give a damn. "But if its what you want, then I'm coming with you. I'll put the chains on, no one else Dean. And I'll take them off when it's over, you can trust me. Trust me, Dean." Under his breath, he whispered, _love you_.

Cassandra's head reared up, her eyes filled with violence as she stared at them.

* * *

John Winchester hadn’t wanted to let go of his son, Dean was damned strong, even when he was injured and supposedly ‘weak’. He’d barely been able to hold onto the struggling young man. But the fear that his son might hurt himself, break open his wound and start bleeding all over again, and Sam’s insistence finally had him complying.

Once the older man had released his struggling son, once it was only Sam holding onto him, talking to him, Dean began to calm almost instantly. His eyes were still wide with fear and his body so tense he was shaking, but he wasn’t fighting anymore. A little clarity beginning to push its way through the irrational panic that had gripped Dean.

John had to admit, he hadn’t wanted that particular precaution, but Connal had insisted upon it. Dean couldn’t leave the circle, for any reason, until the ritual was complete. Those chains were as much for Dean’s protection as it was for theirs.

Hearing Sam promise to Dean that if he’d changed his mind now that they would stop certainly didn’t sit too well with the older Winchester. They really didn’t have time for this. They were pushing the envelope. If they didn’t start now they might not be able to finish it in time… and what if Dean refused now?

But Dean didn’t refuse. He took a deep shuddering breath and nodded to his brother. Agreeing to let the younger man put him into the chains.

“Alright.” Dean finally whispered.

* * *

“Alright,” Sam echoed, gently leading Dean to the center of the circle. “Okay Dean, sit down,” he said, grabbing Dean in a bearhug when he saw the fear spike up again in his eyes. “I’m right here with you. Right here, Dean. We just gotta get over this hurdle, and then we’re home free, okay?”

Once Dean did as he asked, Sam crawled to one post, got the cuff and put it around Dean’s ankle, then the other. When he came back to cuff his wrist, it was ten times harder. He swallowed over the lump in his throat, then closed the metal around Dean’s wrist. His fingers caressed his brother’s inner arm, over the bracelet. “It’ll be over soon, it’s not like the last time,” he whispered.

Then he had the second cuff on, and he thought he wanted to throw up. Just like at the cabin, when he couldn’t leave Dean inside the cage alone, he didn’t want to leave him alone inside this circle. Wouldn’t unless he was forced to. Brushing Dean’s hair back, he rocked onto his heels and looked at the others. 

* * *

Dean nodded shakily, but the fear did not leave his eyes even as he let his brother pull him forward towards the circle. He had to do this. He had to do this for Sam. His brother was right. It was now or never. He kept his eyes on Sam and not on the circle or the chains he was about to be bound in. He knew how helpless he was going to be in those chains… there was no way he’d be able to gain enough leverage to pull himself free of them, or even struggle. He would be utterly defenseless… but he trusted Sam. As long as his brother was with him, he could do this.

The tight hug his brother gave him helped him calm down enough to lie down in the circle like Sam wanted him to. He remained still when the chains around his ankles were removed and then the new ones were locked in place. His heart began to speed up again in spite of himself when Sam moved to chain his wrists to the stakes. His fingers clenched and it was all he could do to keep still and not pull on the chains binding him, trying to get free even though he knew he couldn’t.

He looked up into Sam’s eyes, trying to focus on his brother’s comforting touch to keep himself from completely going off the deep end. It would all be over soon, once it was done, Sam would take off the chains and his brother wouldn’t be in danger from him anymore. Dean repeated that over and over in his head.

David Connal stood up slowly and approached the bound man inside the circle. He gave them both a sympathetic look before turning to Sam.

“I’m sorry. You’ll have to step back now.” Connal said, and Dean tensed immediately, but he gave his brother a shaky nod. Trying to tell the younger man without words that it was going to be ok, even if he couldn’t bring himself to believe it himself right now.

Connal had a wooden bowl in one hand and a knife in the other. As soon as Sam moved out of the circle, he began to speak softly. Though the foreign words pouring from his lips sounded like a strange mixture between chanting and singing. Dean’s gut clenched hard when the other man brought the knife close to him and sliced up the front of his shirt, exposing his chest.

When the other man dipped the blade into the bowl he was holding Dean realized that the bowl wasn’t empty. An odd smelly black mixture coated the blade and Dean couldn’t stop himself from flinching when Connal brought it close to his skin again. The blade barely scratched the flesh of his chest, but it still felt like fire or acid carving into him and Dean couldn’t stop himself from jerking and crying out in pain. Connal seemed to expect the reaction, because his words never faltered and the blade never stopped moving.

Dean’s fingers curled into fists and he jerked in the chains but they didn’t budge, he couldn’t escape the blade carving lines of fire into his flesh. 

* * *

When Connal told him he had to step away, Sam’s first instinct was to ask why, and was it really necessary or was it just a convenience. But before his questions left his lips, Dean was nodding at him to back off. He might have gone on and asked his questions, but he was afraid to rile up Dean when he appeared to at least be calm. Closing his mouth, Sam nodded, and slowly moved just outside the circle, one hand gripping the post.

He watched the ritual like a hawk, wishing that despite his dad’s clear impatience with him earlier, he had asked more questions... that he knew what to expect. Instead it was all unfolding in front of him, and he was being asked to trust a stranger. Sure he’d been ready to trust the stranger when they were looking for him, and even when they’d found him. But right now... here... when his brother was tied up like that, it was just a little harder to be that positive that things would work out.

As Dean started to jerk and gave a cry of pain, it was as if his father knew he’d step in that circle again, and Sam felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and arm. His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched as he watched Connal drawing all over Dean’s chest, making him hurt like he was using silver or something. Again he involuntarily moved toward his brother, and his dad stopped him. Sam’s hand tightened on the post, his knuckles whitening, his breaths coming our harshly as he watched his brother writhe in pain.

He’d promised... promised Dean it would be okay. This wasn’t Dean okay. Yet they’d both been told it would be a difficult ritual. He felt so fucking impotent right now. If he could take the pain for Dean, if he could just shoulder some of it. His gaze focused on Dean’s clenched fists, then his pained expression, and his gut just clenched for his brother. _Let it be over fast... just let it be finished and over fast._

Across the way, Cassandra tested Bobby’s will to hold her there, and had the butt of his gun knocked into her forehead, bleeding. Maybe her blood would tinge the wind... maybe her pack would be able to find her. Maybe they could stop this... this ritual. She didn’t believe in it, there was nothing that could reverse a werewolf’s bite, nothing. This Connal, he smelled like a wolf... so if he hadn’t been cured, then why should her mate.

Her gaze narrowed on Sam. If she didn’t die tonight, that _mate stealer_ would.

* * *

  


By the time Connal finished with the knife on his chest Dean’s blood felt like it was boiling inside of him. Intense pain radiating from every single cut, even though they were barely deeper than a scratch. Dean grit his teeth. Tried to keep from crying out. He felt dizzy. Sick to his stomach. The sound of the other man’s constant chanting mingling with the pounding of his own blood in his ears.

Connal looked up at the eldest Winchester and John nodded. David stood slowly, his voice never faltering. John Winchester gave his youngest son’s shoulder a light squeeze. Both to offer comfort and a reminder not to touch Dean while he was inside the circle.

John followed Connal over to where Bobby stood with Cassandra. John pulled out a set of pliers from his belt, and the other hunter knew what to do. Grabbing a handful of the werewolf bitch’s hair and yanking her head back. John Winchester grabbed her jaw and yanked out the gag that Sam had shoved between her teeth earlier. Then he shoved the pliers into her mouth.

Dean had no idea what was happening. He could barely hear anything beyond the beating of his own heart loud and hard in his chest, but he heard the pained scream from Cassandra. Dean forced his eyes open and managed to turn his head enough to see his father wrenching out another one of the bitch’s fangs and dropping it into the bowl Connal held.

Bobby shoved her head forward, letting some of the blood, and most surely werewolf venom spill into the bowl as well. Apparently finished with her, John Winchester shoved the gag back into her bloody mouth as Connal began to crush up the hideous mixture as he approached Dean in the circle once more. Kneeling beside Dean’s head as he continued to chant.

John Winchester was the one who spoke to his elder son as Connal lifted the back of Dean’s head and pressed the bowl to his lips.

“You have to drink this, son.” John ordered. If the elder man’s voice was a little strained, Dean chose to ignore it. Dean wasn’t stupid. He knew it was going to be bad. How much that stuff had hurt just from the light scratches in his skin…

Dean’s eyes locked with his brother’s as Connal began to pour it into his mouth. All of it. Then Dean couldn’t see anything through the blinding pain that ripped through him, his body convulsing as he began to scream. 

* * *

Sam’s nails dug crescents into the post as he watched his brother writhe in pain. He felt his dad’s touch, didn’t look at him, but wondered what worse thing was in store. When the two other men walked away to Cassandra, he was so damned tempted to take Dean’s hand, to squeeze it, run his hand over his face.

Then Cassandra’s scream had him turning, and he didn’t even bat an eyelash at the barbaric treatment of the she-wolf. He was glad when they shut her the hell up again.

Before his Dad and Connal returned, Sam made eye contact with Dean, saw his brother’s eyes were glazed. “Hang in there,” he said quietly, hoping to God this would be over soon.

As Connal passed him, Sam saw the bloody mixture in the bowl. Then his dad was ordering Dean to drink it, but there was a hint of something in his dad’s voice. Regret? Sam’s stomach clenched. He took a small step toward them, eyes glued on his brother, though he was partially shrouded from view by his dad’s body.

Dean’s instantaneous reaction to the liquid being poured down his throat, almost as if it were acid, had Sam in the circle and dropping down onto the ground. “Dean!” There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that his brother’s insides were being ripped apart, shredded by whatever this was, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do.

Feeling his dad grabbing his arm, Sam knocked his arm away. He wasn’t supposed to touch his brother, he got that. But he was human... he needed to be close, not to be excluded, he needed for Dean to know he was right there.

_Please. Please don’t let this be for nothing, let it work. Please._ His chest rose and fell as his brother writhed and shouted in sheer agony. _Please let it be over. Please.... please let this end._ He almost closed his eyes to the torture, but he'd promised Dean he'd be there every step of the way, and lame as this was... watching from the sidelines... he couldn't make it easier on himself.

When it went on and on, his face went up, eyes questioning his father's. Was this right... is this how it should go... were they doing more harm than good here?

* * *

John Winchester saw his youngest son practically dive for his eldest when Dean started screaming. He knew that Sam couldn’t touch Dean while he was in the circle, but it still took the older man a few seconds to move. His attempt to pull the young man back away from Dean half hearted at best, and he didn’t even bother trying again when Sam shrugged him off.

Dean... oh god... Dean...

Dean’s entire body was coated in sweat, but his face was pale as a ghost. His body jerked so hard against the chains holding him that his wrists had begun to bleed. The posts and chains held, but now John was afraid that Dean’s bones might actually give and snap before the restraints would. Connal had warned them all that it would be bad... had told them that Dean might be too weak to endure it... John had gone into this knowing that his son might die tonight, but... Now as John watched his son’s body writhe like it was trying to tear itself apart, listening to Dean howl in agony like a wounded animal...

The gift and the curse was intertwined, Connal had told him. The spirit and the demon so tightly woven together that one could not be distinguished from the other. The ritual was meant to literally rip the two apart and, if the wolf spirit was strong enough, let it kill its cursed half. And the battle was being waged inside of his son’s body...

John watched, feeling as helpless as the night he’d watched his beloved wife burn to death on the ceiling of Sam’s nursery. His son was dying... he was dying and John was just standing there, letting it happen, letting this man torture his son...

When Dean screamed again, blood welled up from his mouth, a horrible gurgling choking sound, but it was the flash of long fangs that had John Winchester’s blood running cold. Dean’s eyes when they rolled back in his head were yellow. His hands clenched into fists were also bleeding and John knew it was because of the sharp claws that had grown from his son’s fingers. No... no... no... NO!

John’s eyes went frantically to the sky. Saw the moon... huge and full and red like blood... rising through the trees. It had to be done before the full moon... no... please... this can’t be all for nothing!

The vicious growl the elder man heard had his blood running cold before he realized it hadn’t come from Dean. Dean was making choked, half whimpering, gurgling sounds of pain, his face twisted in agony, but his body jerking weaker and weaker now... the sound had come from behind him... John turned when he heard the gun shot like thunder through the clearing in time to see Bobby being knocked away from the werewolf bitch by another wolf. The silver bullet had managed to find its mark in the heard of the werewolf before its teeth could find their way into Bobby’s throat, but there were more of them, and with the bitch no longer held at gun point...

“Sam!” John Winchester yelled as he pulled out his gun and shot the next wolf that charged through the trees between the eyes. 

* * *

Sam had seen Dean's eyes go yellow before, he'd also seen claws on his hands. He'd never seen Dean's hands bleed like this though. And the blood coming from his mouth, streaming out the corners. He heard the shouting, almost through a haze, and realized he was shouting his brother's name even as Dean was making sounds that were more wolf than human... but the sound of pain was universal and unmistakable. _Come on... come on Dean, pull through. Fight it... let this work... let it... let it work.  
_

Close to tears, Sam was choking, biting back his own screams... his demands that Connal do something, fighting his natural instincts to pick Dean up, hold him close, to tell him it would be okay... that he didn't fucking care if Dean was a werewolf... they'd deal with it. He didn't want this, not for his brother, this sort of pain. If there was a way to take some of it on himself...

A shot rang out. Almost as if in slow motion, Sam dragged his eyes away from his brother, looking over his shoulder to see a werewolf drop to the ground. His dad had nailed it, but there were others. And he knew, knew they couldn't be allowed to disrupt the ritual.

Reaching around behind him, he pulled his gun out of his waistband and moved around to protect Connal and Dean from the other side. Aiming, he shot at one of the snarling wolves, missed, and shot again. There was no room for error, not with his brother tied up like this.

Cassandra snarled in victory. Her pack hadn't let her down. She held still as one of them kept the hunter, Bobby busy, and another freed her from the chains. She spit out blood, from having been brutally defanged. They would die, all but her mate would die for this days work.

Howling her command that they keep everyone but Sam busy, she circled around, sniffing the air. That one had to die. Turning wasn't an option, not for him... not for the usurper. She was Dean's mate, not that one... and once he was dead, her mate would come back to his senses. This... this witchery wouldn't work, everyone knew nothing could turn back the clock once a werewolf bit you, nothing.

The other wolves snapped to follow their leader's command, moving quickly, dodging bullets and targeting John and Bobby, and threatening Connal... though they were a bit leery of him.

Seeing the elder hunters being attacked, Sam turned again, dropped on his knees as a werewolf leaped through the air in tandem with another one toward his father. This time his aim was true, and the howling creature dropped to the ground, foam coming out of it's mouth.

"Bobby!" Sam shouted, backing away from his position and starting to run toward the other hunter.

Cassandra balanced on the thick branch of the tree, crouched... waited for the right moment, then sprang off, claws spread out, teeth gnashing, her target ... a dead man walking.

* * *

Dean couldn’t hear his brother’s shouts. He couldn’t see the younger man’s anguished face. However he could smell his lover’s terror. Utter terror. Beyond the unimaginable pain that felt like his own body was ripping itself apart, beyond his own fear that he could feel his life slipping away with every thundering beat of his heart, he could still smell his mate’s fear.

He could smell the other wolves. Their rage. Their hunger. Their intent to kill… slaughter… everything he held dear. Everything he loved… Sam… his father… Bobby… SAM!

He could not die! Damn it. He would not die! His brother needed him. His lover was in danger. His mate… SAM!

Dean’s eyes snapped open and the first thing he saw was the full red moon rising above them all. Then he could see Connal, still kneeling beside him even as chaos erupted around them. Gunshots and vicious snarls and howls coming from every direction it seemed. Dean barely heard his own enraged growl join them. He barely felt the way his very bones seemed to shift beneath his skin, breaking and rearranging themselves under his flesh. Changing… He didn’t really register when the chains binding him fell away, or that Connal was the one to remove them. He was too busy searching, seeking… finding…

Sam…

Dean, free, rolled over. Pushed himself up. Ripping at the clothes with sharp claws that tried to bind him in place. He was still weak, in pain, but he didn’t care. All he cared was that Sam was in danger. He saw the bitch watching his mate. Readying to attack. Dean reacted without thought to protect what was his.

*

John Winchester heard Sam’s shout. He managed to dodge the swipe of claws from the werewolf intent on gutting him and shot it in the face. He turned to help Bobby. To help Sam. He saw the werewolf leaping for his son from the tree and raised his gun again… however before he could fire he heard another enraged growl and saw a large black shape barrel into the werewolf, knocking it away from Sam in mid air.

A huge black dog… No... A WOLF was attacking the werewolf, the two snarling and biting at each other as they rolled on the ground. John’s eyes snapped over to the circle only to find the chains that had been binding his son inside of it empty. Connal was nowhere to be seen.

Dean…

The huge black wolf managed to finally gain the upper hand, latching its powerful jaws onto the werewolf’s neck. 

* * *

Cassandra's triumph was stolen practically from her jaws by the unexpected attack that came like a torpedo out of nowhere. The alpha werewolf snarled and howled in pain and rage, rolling on the ground with the attacking wolf, her eyes flicking to her intended victim and then she was fighting for her life. She didn't know how it was possible, but Dean... her intended... he'd achieved a complete change. She'd heard there were some that could do that, and how how glorious would it be if they mated and brought...

Her dreams came crashing to an end when before she could order the others to focus on Sam as a means of stopping Dean, Dean's powerful jaws clamped down on her neck and throat. This was _not_ how it would end. Even as she gave a determined push, sharp, deadly teeth sank into her throat, cutting off her air.

The wind and sound of the bodies clashing mid air had knocked Sam onto the ground on his ass, even as he raised his gun to shoot. He knew Cassandra... but what was that other wolf... a gigantic real wolf doing protecting him. His first thought was that it was Connal, but as the seconds passed, and he saw the chains loose on the ground, he shouted. "Dean! It's Dean," that was for his dad's benefit, he wanted to be sure no one shot the wolf... _his_ wolf.

Even though other werewolves were circling, and he should be helping dad and Bobby to shoot them, Sam was practically mesmerized. Glued in place. He trained his gun on Cassandra, but knew he could as easily shoot Dean so he never pulled the trigger.

Once Dean was ripping her head off, and Sam could hear her last whimpers, he didn't heed his dad's shouts to keep away. Instead he walked right up to them, aimed, and shot the already dead or dying werewolf in the temple. The sounds of snarling didn't stop. He took a half step back. "Dean?"

* * *

It was a fight to the death, not for dominance, not for food, but to protect the life of his mate.

He felt the sharp deadly claws raking into him as the she-wolf tried in vain to push him away, but he held on. His jaws tightening ruthlessly, teeth sinking deeply into fragile vulnerable flesh. Blood. So much blood pouring into his mouth but he didn’t stop. Biting harder. Ripping and tearing without mercy as he shook his head from side to side.

Soon the struggling body beneath him began to still. The heart pumping blood like a fountain through the gaping wound in his enemies throat was slowing. Pained pleading whimpers replacing the vicious snarls of the she-wolf.

He finally released the dying she-wolf. Licking his bloodied jaws as his glowing yellow eyes scanned the darkness. The remains of the pack were circling the clearing warily. He knew they had seen him kill their alpha and they wanted revenge, but their numbers were already so depleted they really had no choice but to retreat. He growled low and dangerously, a warning.

The final gunshot so close to him made him turn and snarl.

The whimpers of the dying she-wolf had stopped.

He could smell the remainder of the pack withdrawing back into the woods.

He turned his eyes to the man holding the smoking gun. The man that had killed the she-wolf. He growled softly. A warning. Another man was shouting and his growl deepened. He might be injured and in pain but he could still fight. He would fight. He would never stop fighting to protect… his…

The man took a step away from him. Retreating. The man’s scent spoke of fear… his scent… his mate’s scent… as recognition dawned his growls softened, a soft whine escaping his throat instead. Dean… yes… that was his name. Sam… He approached his mate slowly, favoring his wounded leg, and whining again at the young man. 

* * *

Sam's heart knocked against his chest at the large wolf... Dean growled again, a clear warning. His head jerked up to see his father approaching slowly, his finger on the trigger. "No, no dad... it's fine," he said, shifting so that he was in front of the wolf, though only a little change in his dad's position could expose the wolf again to the possibility of being fired on.

"Dean, it's me... Sam." Licking his lips, he put his hands out, showing him the backs of his hands, his eyes downcast, making sure not to show any teeth at all. From all he'd read, these were the signs of submission. The last thing he needed was for Dean to think he was being challenged. "It's alright... its over. Can I..."

His father's sharp shout for him not to get closer went ignored.

"He knows me," he said softly. "He knows me." As soon as the wolf reached him and circled once around his legs, Sam dropped down and put his hand on the animal's back, stroking its luxurious fur. "Thanks Dean," he kept saying his brother's name, wanting it to penetrate through to the wolf he'd changed into. "For saving me. Your leg... it's hurt." He made sure not to touch it. "We'll take care of it, alright? I'll take care of it." Dropping his head down, he kissed the top of the wolf's head and could sense the fear and anger roiling off his dad behind him. "Love you," he whispered so low, only his wolfmate could hear him.

* * *

Even seeing with his own eyes John Winchester could barely believe it. Even remembering Connal’s warnings to him how Dean might change due to the ritual, it was difficult for the older man to believe that the black wolf he was staring at was actually his son. But Connal himself was gone and Dean… who else, what else, could it be?

John’s eyes quickly scanned the surrounding darkness. The remaining werewolves had retreated. Though John and Bobby still trained their guns towards the dark tree line for any signs of movement, ready to shoot without hesitation, he was certain they would not attack again. The elder Winchester turned his attention back to his son… his sons… Sam approaching the wolf… his brother…

“Sam! Stay back!” The older man shouted the warning to his younger son. Even with Connal’s earlier reassurances that Dean would be no danger, John wasn’t willing to risk it. Not until they knew for sure. The wolf… Dean… those glowing yellow eyes were wild, like a real wolf. They did not seem to hold any recognition. In fact, the animal was _growling_ , either in anger or fear, and if it could overpower a werewolf it could easily kill a man as well.

Of course, Sam completely unheeded his warnings.

Though it made him sick to his stomach he pointed the gun at the wolf that was probably his son. If he had to shoot to protect Sam… But then Sam was standing in his way, blocking his shot and the older man felt his stomach twist even more in fear. God damn that stubborn boy! Did he want to get himself killed?!

“Sam!”

But the wolf’s growls softened as it approached Sam. The large animal sniffing at the young man as it limped around him. When Sam knelt down and touched the wolf, petting it, John swore he saw the tail beginning to wag and John didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Well I’ll be damned.” He heard Bobby say from beside him, the other man obviously as shocked by everything as he was. When the wolf licked Sam’s face, John finally lowered the gun and his heart began to beat a little easier. 

* * *

The men behind him weren't the only ones shocked. The sudden stroke of the wolf's wet tongue across practically his whole face had Sam jerking back until he realized it was a good sign and started to chuckle. "Somebody get a picture of this," he said, laughter and happiness bubbling up in his voice as he put both arms around the wolf's large body and pulled it close in a hug. "You're very cute in wolf form. I think I'm going to get you a diamond studded collar," he teased, not knowing how much Dean would understand, but knowing full well he was going to store up a lot of wolf jokes and start using them, once it... this whole change thing was no longer a sore point for his brother.

"Where's Connal," he asked over his shoulder. "Don't we need him to show Dean how to... you know, change back?" Sam's fingers were still curled tightly around thick fur, his face close to his wolf's, not a shred of fear or tension remaining in his body.

His dad's shrug and Bobby's gesture of looking toward the woods told Sam they were on their own with this. "Okay Dean, let's go inside, alright? Then we're gonna have to find a way to..." he gestured with his hand, as if the wolf would just 'get' that he meant go back to human form. He pulled up to his full height, kept on hand on the back of the wolf's neck, and meeting his Dad's gaze, gave him a genuine smile as he started to walk in the direction of the cabin.

* * *

John couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he watched the slobbery kiss the wolf gave to Sam. In fact, he felt almost giddy with relief. As some of the fear and anxiety that had been gripping him ever since Dean had been lost all those months ago, ever since they had found Dean and discovered the bite mark on his son, finally began to bleed away. Leaving him feel almost weak and so tired he felt he could sleep for a whole month straight.

Damn, he was getting old.

He almost wished he did have a camera to take a picture of this. If only for blackmail material later, he could only imagine the look on Dean’s face when he told his son later how he’d been wagging his tail like an excited puppy. Even though John was a little worried by the fact that Dean didn’t seem to be all there, or at least not completely aware of what he was doing, Sam was right. It was obvious that the wolf Dean had become knew his brother, knew them, on some level. Maybe Dean would eventually learn to be more in control, more of himself, when he changed. He could only hope.

John exchanged a look with Bobby when Sam asked where Connal was. The other hunter shook his head and John sighed a little as he looked out towards the dark woods. If Connal had changed like Dean he could be anywhere right now and there was no way they would find him. Especially if he didn’t want to be found. The fact that John Winchester hadn’t exactly brought the other man here of his free will it was probably a good bet he didn’t want to be found.

At least the other man had kept up his end of the bargain. He had helped his son. John Winchester would keep up his end, and not look for Connal again. Nor would he tell anyone about Connal’s knowledge of the ‘cure’. But that didn’t mean that he and Bobby couldn’t research it further. See if there was a way, perhaps, to help those that had already changed return to normal permanently. It was a long shot but if they didn’t have to kill people who’d been bitten by a werewolf, that would be a good thing.

“He’ll probably change back in the morning, when the moon sets.” John said. Watching Sam and Dean, the way the wolf looked at his brother there was a definite intensity to that gaze, and an unmistakable intelligence. The way the animal cocked its head to the side as Sam spoke, and immediately got up to follow Sam indoors when the young man mentioned it. It was definitely Dean in there.

John returned Sam’s smile easily, following after his sons back to the cabin. 


	14. Chapter 14

All of them were in high spirits, laughing easily, talking as the packed their gear. It would have been nice to just stay at the cabin but since the remainder of Cassandra's pack knew where it was, they felt it might be a foolish move. But they weren't in any rush, and Sam loved the fact that Dean was mostly following him around. Though the wolf sometimes lay in the middle of the room, just watching where he went, the instant he left the room, Dean would be up and trotting behind him or at his side.  


  
"Always did want a puppy," Sam joked, occasionally stroking his wolf's back or head, keeping him 'in the circle' whether he understood words or not.

Once they were done, he and Dean hopped onto the back of their dad's truck. Urging Dean to get in didn't work, but he sure did follow Sam once Sam was all seated and ready to go. The ride back to the hotel was interesting. The cold air chilled Sam, but he had the wolf practically in his lap, heavy as it was, but just like human Dean... it's body was as hot as a furnace.

When they reached the motel, Sam offered to go get them some beers and food. Turned out that Dean still wouldn't let him out of his sight, going so far as to give a snarl when it looked like Sam was going to close the door behind him and leave the wolf with the other men. So John and Bobby went instead while Sam lectured Dean on how he didn't have to be so damned territorial. "Next you'll be trying to fucking pee on me... Don't you dare," he added, seeing mischief stirring behind yellow eyes.

The men got back, and there were two double cheese burgers for Dean. Everyone ate, and quite a few beers were drained.

"I'm gonna take Dean to our room," Sam eventually said, getting up. He wondered if he was going to get any flack since it was still the full moon and Dean hadn't made it through the night yet, but everyone seemed to be relaxed, so maybe they wouldn't be overly cautious where they didn't have to be. "I think he's fine."

* * *

John Winchester had suggested they go back to the motel they’d been staying at as soon as they got back to the cabin. Even though it probably would have been easier to keep Dean at the cabin out in the middle of nowhere… away from other humans, they simply couldn’t risk it. The werewolves could return at any time, and they really couldn’t afford another tangle with the remains of the pack. Eventually they would have to be hunted down, but right now they had other more important things to worry about.

Though smuggling Dean into the motel might be a trick, considering they couldn’t really pass him off as a dog. He didn’t look like a dog. He looked like a wolf. A big wolf at that. But they didn’t have any other options right now. Maybe tomorrow, once Dean was changed back to normal, they could find someplace else they could go to spend the next two nights of the full moon.

Dean seemed a little wary of him and Bobby at first, but after he’d sniffed both of them a kind of recognition flickered in those golden eyes, and the animal visibly relaxed around them. It was obvious though that Dean still wasn’t quite all there. His human self fighting with his new instincts maybe? He hadn’t let Bobby or him touch him yet, not even to bandage his wounded leg. Only Sam, and Dean had followed his brother around closely, not letting the young man out of his sight for a moment.

Luckily they hadn’t run into anyone at the motel and Dean had followed Sam into the motel after giving the structure only a brief wary glance. He had obviously been more comfortable out in the middle of the woods than he was here.

There had been a brief period of tension when Dean had actually growled when Sam had tried to leave the motel room without him to get food. So he and Bobby had gone out for food instead, though John had urged Sam to be careful all the same around his wolf brother. They really had no idea how Dean might react, and if Dean bit Sam in this form, who knew what would happen.

After they all ate, Dean gobbling down the cheeseburgers they’d brought for him just as greedily as he would have as a human, and with much tail wagging that had all the men laughing, John could see the exhaustion creeping over his eldest son. John certainly couldn’t blame him. His son had been through hell tonight. He’d been weak even before the ritual, then going through the ritual, the change, and everything else... John was actually amazed Dean had lasted this long.

When Sam suggested he take Dean back to their room, alone, John couldn’t deny he was a little hesitant. But Dean needed rest and there simply wasn’t enough room in one room for all of them and since he wouldn’t let Sam out of his sight.

“Alright, but take one of the tranquilizer guns just in case.” John said, though he didn’t think it would be needed, he hadn’t survived being a hunter this long without being cautious. 

* * *

"Okay," Sam nodded at his dad and went to grab the tranq gun. Taking off his jacket, he hid the weapon inside the material so that if they were seen as they walked to their room, then he'd only have to worry about explaining his 'wolf-like dog' and not the gun too. It was quite late, and when he looked outside, he didn't see anyone. "Dean."

He didn't have to ask the wolf twice, he followed him out, not allowing too much distance between them the moment they were out. Though their room was only a few doors down, Sam took him to the parking lot and cleared his throat. "If you have any _business_ you can do it now. He gave the wolf a few minutes, not really checking to see if it peed or anything, then headed for their room. As he closed and locked the door behind him, he thought this was seriously surreal.

Dropping down to his knees next to the wolf, he hugged it again. "So glad you're... okay. Dean..." he swallowed, knowing he could have lost his brother, Dean could have died from the ritual or from trying to stop Cassandra when he was already injured and in pain. "Probably better to talk to you tomorrow, huh?" He petted the wolf a couple times, feeling kinda foolish, then getting up.

Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting in the bed and tying a thick tube sock into a knot, and patting the bed. Dean didn't have to be asked twice, he hopped on, and curled up in a half circle next to him. Sam put the knotted sock between his great paws and snickered. "Chew toy."

Yeah, it was bad to be amused by your wolf brother but hell... if the situation had been reversed, Dean would be merciless. He had the tranq gun close, but the truth was, he probably would never have enough time to aim and shoot if anything happened. He was just gonna have to trust that Dean had been protective not just tonight, but also at the other cabin, when he'd gone to that 'in between' mode where he was human but couldn't think straight... even then, even when he'd been a little rough, he'd put Sam's safety first.

"Night Dean." Sam shut the bedside lamp off, but he'd left the bathroom light on so there was still light to see by. Instinctively, he put one hand on the wolf's back, fingers curling into the thick soft fur. It made him feel safe... probably foolish, but it just did.

* * *

Dean was tired.

The food had been good, but now he was ready to sleep. At least the floor was comfortable. He yawned and rested his head on his paws. His eyes starting to drift close even though he was reluctant to let them close completely. Reluctant to look away from his brother. His mate.

The other men were talking again, and sometimes he thought he understood what was being said… but then it slipped away like water. Maybe if he wasn’t so tired he would understand more.

When Sam got up, Dean lifted his head. When the young man said his name, he got up without hesitation despite how tired and how much he still hurt from everything. Dean followed the young man closely back outside.

He liked it outside. He liked it better than being inside, no matter how comfortable the floor was. He felt less… trapped out here. A part of him wanted to go, to run fast and far through the woods. To hunt… if he wasn’t so tired he might have. But looking back at his mate, it was obvious that Sam did not want to run, so Dean would stay. Though he took the time to ease some of the pressure on his bladder while he was outside, then followed the young man back inside when he was done.

They didn’t go back to the room with the other men, they went to a different room instead. Just him and Sam. He liked this better. He also liked it when Sam hugged him and ran his fingers through his fur. He was still tired though, so when Sam got up and started moving around the room, taking off his clothes, Dean stayed where he was. Though he continued to watch the young man closely.

When Sam finally sat down on the bed and patted the area beside him, Dean’s ears perked up a little and he got up and jumped on the bed. Ok, he liked this a lot better than the floor. He laid down next to Sam and when the young man put the sock in front of him, he sniffed at it a little confused. What was he supposed to do with it? He’d figure it out tomorrow. He was too tired now.

Dean shifted a little closer to Sam when the young man laid down and rested his head on his brother’s stomach. He stayed awake for a few more minutes, listening to Sam sleep and once he was satisfied that his brother would be safe, he let his eyes finally close. 

* * *

  


  
Sunlight flooded the room. Sam had forgotten to close the dark curtains over the light ones that provided privacy but no protection from the morning sun. He came awake with a start, recalling everything that had happened. His first thought was for Dean. Was he okay? Had he changed back? What was the state of his injuries?

As he tried to sit up, a weight pressed down on him. Through bleary eyes, he saw it was Dean. He had changed, but he was sleeping in the same position the wolf had been sleeping... curled up, butt naked on top of the bed sheets, with his head and upper body on top of Sam's stomach. A snort of laughter had Sam shaking, and also Dean who still appeared to be out. Now here was a sight that would send Bobby to an early grave.

Reaching down, Sam stroked the side of Dean's face, his thumb tracing his brother's eye, then lips, as he assured himself his brother was fine. A glance at his leg showed the bandaging had fallen off, and Dean's leg appeared unmarked. Healed. Alright... so far, it was a good day. No, not just a good day, a damned good day. The best!

"Dean?" he whispered, touching him gently, his palm grazing warm skin as he stroked his brother's face, neck and bare shoulder. "You awake?" Yeah, if he wasn't, Sam was waking him, but he couldn't help it... he needed to share this moment. No, he wasn't gonna get choked up or give his brother grief, making him live through a 'chick flick' moment right away. But that didn't mean his chest hadn't constricted, or that he hadn't whispered a 'thank you' to the powers that be. "Dean, we made it... we're... we're good now."

* * *

He was warm, he was content, and his mind was free from the nightmares that had plagued him leading up to the full moon. So Dean was a little reluctant to ruin this moment by opening his eyes, maybe finding out the contentment and… peace… he felt was only a dream. An illusion… But he movement underneath him, the gentle touches to his face, drew him out of his sleep in spite of his reluctance. When he finally realized what, or more accurately who, was responsible, he was no longer reluctant to open his eyes.

Sam…

Dean’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up quickly as consciousness brought with it a flood of memories. Some were fragmented, hard to piece together. Like when he’d been chained inside the circle, enduring more pain than he had probably ever endured in his whole life, during the ritual. But he remembered Sam being there, always so close, talking him through it. Then… he remembered the werewolf attack. Cassandra…

His eyes focused on Sam, intently moving up and down the younger man’s body as though to prove to himself that his brother was really here. Alive. Unharmed. He remembered Cassandra attacking Sam… but Sam was fine. From what he could see, there didn’t seem to be a scratch on his brother. Cassandra had been ready to kill Sam… but he had stopped it… he had… turned…

“Sammy… you ok?” Dean asked automatically, needing to make sure even though he could see that his brother was fine. He just needed to be sure. What had happened after the ritual? After… he’d turned… that’s when his memories got blurry again. If he was lying here, naked in bed on top of his brother instead of in chains in a cage or something… it must have worked? But he’d turned… he was sure of it… that’s how he killed Cassandra…

Cassandra had told him that her pack was cursed with memory. They didn’t forget what happened, what they did, when they turned. Dean thought he remembered bits and pieces. Sights, smells, feelings… but he couldn’t put the images and sensations together in any coherent order.

“What the hell happened?” 

* * *

"Yeah, I'm fine... except the lump on my head." Courtesy of you, but he didn't say it, instead giving a wide smile, especially when he notice Dean inspecting him the same way he'd been inspecting Dean for injuries when he first woke. "Dean... I'm fine," he repeated, pulling a couple pillows up against the headboard next to him so Dean could sit close.

Sam tried to pull his gaze away because, between the sight of his brother naked and muscles rippling..., and all the emotional upheaval of the night before, the worry, the pain he'd watched Dean suffer through, the fear for his death, hell... even the thought of Bobby and dad a couple rooms down might not stop him from mauling his brother.

He dry scrubbed his face, then put his hand over Dean's. "You don't remember any of it?" Looking up into Dean's face, he told him how he'd been tied down, his suffering during the ritual. Sam's voice caught as he relived those moments, seeing his older brother in excruciating pain, hearing him plead and shout, knowing part of the reason he was doing this was for him... for Sam. "Sorry," he licked his lips, knowing Dean wouldn't want to deal with him getting emotional now.

He told him about the attack by Cassandra's pack. How they released her, how he and dad and Bobby fought them off, how Dean knocked Cassandra away just when she would have sunk her teeth into Sam's jugular. "You saved me. You changed, into this... this big, sleek, muscular..." Seeing the twinkle in his brother's eyes, Sam chuckled and shook his head, "Dean... one track mind." Giving a mock sigh, he continued, "wolf. You rolled her to the ground, fought... your let was injured, but you didn't care. She was practically dead, but I put a bullet through her brain just to be sure."

Sam drew a deep breath. "Then we came back here and you... oh, I think you were sweet on me, kept licking me... and I mean full on, tongue over my entire face, licks," he nodded. "I don't know if you could understand everything we said, but you weren't... you know, dangerous. Just a little freakishly overprotective of me, but I'm kinda getting used to it. Dean..." he looked at the door, wishing it was safe. "Maybe a quick kiss?" he asked, looking back.

* * *

Dean raised an eyebrow when Sam mentioned the lump on his head, especially since the smile the younger man said it with seemed a bit out of place. Hell, maybe they were both a little nuts right now since Dean couldn’t help returning his brother’s grin. At least he was reassured now that Sam was telling the truth, that he was fine, and Dean relaxed considerably as he moved to sit against the headboard next to the younger man.

“Bits and pieces.” Dean answered when the younger man asked what he remembered, and then began to fill in the blank spots in his memory.

It was difficult listening to Sam talk about what happened during the ritual. Dean remembered the pain from that pretty damned well. He thought he even remembered Sam trying to talk him through it, be there for him through it, to make it a little more bearable, but it got a little fuzzy after that.

Sam’s description of the werewolf pack attacking helped him make a little more sense of his own memories, though when his brother went on to describe how he’d… changed. Dean’s eyebrows went up, first in amusement then in surprise. A wolf? A real fucking wolf? How the hell… how was that possible? Connal had said the ritual would be unpredictable but this…?

Well… that kind of explained why it was so difficult for him to make sense of a lot of memories from last night. Also explained how he’d woken up naked curled up on Sam like he had… But he wasn’t dangerous… Dad never would have left him alone with Sam if he thought for a second he’d hurt his brother. He almost couldn’t believe it, after everything… it had worked. Sure, he wasn’t sure yet how to deal with the fact that he still turned into a _wolf_ during the full moon, but it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative. Dean snorted softly when Sam described him _licking_ his brother’s face. Well… at least he hadn’t tried to hump the younger man’s leg.

A quick kiss? Dean laughed a little and gave the younger man a devilish look before he moved, quickly moving on top of his brother straddling Sam’s hips and pinning his lover beneath him. A quick kiss… they’d done a hell of a lot more just outside Bobby’s bedroom, hell, they’d done a hell of a lot more with their dad sleeping in the next _bed_ , and here they had a nice locked door between them.

“You think I’m going to let you get away that easy?” Dean teased before kissing his brother hungrily. 

* * *

Dean's expression, right before he pounced, had Sam's heart constricting. Then Dean was on top of him, bringing his mouth down over his, and God... God Sam needed this, needed Dean just like this. Hot, hungry for him, showing him ... proving that this thing they had for each other hadn't changed. That it wouldn't change, not ever.

He kissed his brother back, fighting to get closer, his hands running over Dean's bare back and ass, the muscles flexing under his palms, reminding him how strong his brother was. His tongue warred with Dean's, his breaths mingling with his brother's. He lifted his hips, groaning at the feel of Dean's erection grinding into his hip through the bedding. His mind was barraged with images... Dean fucking him, no holds barred... another groan broke out of him.

His mouth slipped off his brothers. "Dean... we can't... Bobby suspects... he... Dean oh God..." Heat flooded his system, need so strong, Sam could barely fight it. Every nerve in his body was firing... wanting to be as naked as his brother, wanting to touch, to be taken, to be held so tight he could barely move. "Please ... oh God baby... please..." he didn't know what he was begging for anymore, his body said one thing, writhing up against his brother, his mind warned him... reminded him how Bobby had looked at them.

* * *

Dean couldn't help but growl softly in approval at the way Sam clung to him so tightly and so desperately, the younger man wanting, needing, this just as much as he did. He pushed his hips down as Sam arched up and moaned again at the feeling of his brother's cock so hard already, so ready for him…

Though Dean couldn't help but smile a little as Sam tried to 'stop' him in the same breath that he begged for more. When Sam's mouth left his, Dean wasted no time licking his way down the younger man's jaw to his neck. Sucking lightly at the junction of Sam's neck and shoulder, not hard enough to leave a mark. Not yet anyway. Then moving back up to Sam's ear, nipping lightly on the lobe.

"You know, you sure do think about Bobby a lot when we're having sex. A guy could get jealous." Dean teased and rolled his hips again. Finally reaching between them and tearing off the comforter and sheets separating them, letting them fall to the floor carelessly.

"Don't worry, baby brother. I'll give you what you need." Dean reassured, sealing his mouth over Sam's again and moaning into his brother's mouth as he kissed Sam hard. Twining their tongues together as he slipped his hands underneath the t-shirt Sam was wearing. Running his fingers up the hot flesh of his brother's back and then down, slipping his hands underneath the younger man's boxers, caressing and squeezing Sam's ass.

Impatiently he grabbed the waistband of his brother's boxers and yanked them down the younger man's legs. Not really caring where they landed as he threw them over his shoulder, grinning down at Sam as he slid between his brother's legs. Pressing his hard cock to Sam's and rocking against the younger man with a moan.

* * *

"Funny..." Sam answered breathlessly, without a hint of laughter in his voice. It was too hard to come up with any response and he didn't need to be thinking about Bobby anymore than he could help.

His brother wasn't kidding with his promise. The hard kiss took Sam by surprise, and the total control Dean took over the kiss had Sam breathless and needy. The way his brother explored his mouth, the way his hands moved over him... _owned him_ , hell yes, Sam liked it. He wanted more, needed more, but he didn't have to ask. Dean instinctively knew how to get to him, knew him too well.

Sam arched upwards as Dean's rough palms moved under him, running down his back to under his boxers. Instinctively, he clenched his ass, groaning as his cock collided against Deans... hard. He moved against his brother, needing him so badly, cursing the scrap of cloth that still separated them. "Dean..." he moved his hands over Dean's back, down to his hips, pulling at him like his life depended on it.

His shorts were gone as suddenly as the rush of breath that left him. Biting on his lower lip, he basked in Dean's grin... leer really, as his brother brought their bodies into hard contact again. Look into his brother's beautiful jade eyes, Sam was lost. To love, to lust, to something more than the sum of those parts.

He put his palm on the side of Dean's face, sliding it down the column of his neck and to his shoulder. "Glad you stuck around." Light words, but he could say them now that his brother was out of danger, "and that you chose... me." He gave it a second to sink in, then wrapped each of his legs around Dean's, locking them together as he lifted up. "Now show me. Show me I'm your mate. _Do me_ , Dean... like I want... you know..." Hard. Merciless. Like they were alone in the world, and nothing else mattered.

* * *

“Promised you I wouldn’t leave you, Sammy. I’ll always choose you.” Dean whispered, repeating his vow all over again. A promise he would always keep, no matter what happened now.

At Sam’s needy demands Dean licked his way back into his brother’s mouth with a deep groan. Exploring every inch inside, owning, possessing, and claiming what was his. His hand slid between their bodies to grasp both their cocks, stroking them together as he continued to move against his brother. Hot precome already beginning to leak a little from the tips, that he smeared down the length of their shafts to ease the friction, letting them move faster, harder, against one another.

“You feel so good, baby. So damn good.” Dean whispered against his brother’s mouth and then caught the younger man’s lower lip with his teeth. Nipping lightly as he shifted to his knees between his brother’s legs. His free hand pushing Sam’s legs higher, opening him wider. His fingers, now slick with both their come, slid down to his brother’s opening and pushed inside. One finger quickly becoming two as he opened the younger man quickly for his cock, raining kisses all over Sam’s face and neck, whispering words of love and how much his brother meant to him.

When he simply couldn’t wait to be inside of the younger man any longer, Dean withdrew his fingers and shifted to press his cock against Sam’s opening. Pulling back just far enough to look into his brother’s eyes as he pushed into Sam easily, sinking in to the hilt.

“Love you, Sammy…” He whispered as he started to fuck his brother just like he wanted, just like they both wanted. Hard. Deep. Claiming. Leaving no doubt to either of them that Sam belonged to him… and that he belonged to Sam…

* * *

He loved how his brother touched him... just right. Dean just knew what he needed, almost before Sam even knew. Reaching between their bodies, Sam closed his hand lightly around Dean's fist moving up and down their cocks. The feel of his brother's callous roughened palm moving over him, squeezing him against his own cock, made him so fucking crazy, he could barely speak... he let his eyes and his reactions do the talking for him, showed Dean how much he licked it, this.

He listened intently as Dean told him he felt good. Groaning as his brother nipped his lip and forced his legs apart, Sam knew what was coming. Breathing hard, he let Dean's kisses and words of love relax him as his brother sank his fingers inside him. It felt like it had been forever since they'd made love. Forever since they'd touched without the fear of what others would think. He was starved for this, for Dean, and his almost uncontrollable need for his brother right now made him realize it.

His hands moved up and down Dean's back, his shoulders, blunt fingernails biting into his brother's flesh, leaving crescents as Sam expressed his need for there to be no space between them. "Need you, God.. Dean' please," he begged. Fuck the lube, he could take it... he had before, and right now all he wanted was Dean inside him, a part of him.

The blazing hot look in Dean's eyes as he aligned himself told Sam his brother was not in any better shape. "Fuck me. Love me. Take me," he said, pushing up against the tip of Dean's cock, making it impossible for his brother to be gentle with him. He didn't want gentle, he wanted Dean... now.

The blinding pain of Dean's sudden invasion had Sam throwing his head back, barely restraining the sound that wanted to tear from the back of his throat. He took two deep breaths, opened his eyes again, and gave Dean the look that said _move._ Then Dean was fucking him... hard, pulling out and slamming into him, like he wanted to be sure Sam never forgot who he was with, that he was Dean's... Dean's mate... for life. "Yeah...oh God Dean, just like that," he whispered roughly, pulling his brother close. When it wasn't enough, he locked his ankles low on Dean's back, helping him fuck harder. "Love you... Love you Dean. So much..." his eyes glazed over as he lifted up, kissing his brother's chest and neck, pulling him inside his body, clenching around him... proving over and over that they belonged together.

* * *

Dean couldn’t have stopped, or even slowed down, even if he wanted to. Sam wasn’t letting him. The way the younger man was clinging to him, encouraging him with his words and the movement of his body… Dean could do nothing else but take what he wanted from his brother, and give the younger man everything he needed.

When Sam’s legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him even deeper into his body, Dean gave Sam what he obviously wanted, and fucked him even harder. The pace almost brutal, and maybe he should have been worried about hurting Sam but the younger man’s scent spoke of nothing but pleasure, need, and desire. Sam wanted this. To be claimed. To feel him for days. Maybe his brother would change his mind when he was walking funny for a week, but right now, Dean gave it to him just like Sam wanted.

“Mine…” Dean growled low in his throat as he took a hold of his brother’s cock in his hand again and began stroking the younger man’s hard leaking flesh in time with his deep thrusts. Angling his thrusts to make sure that he hit his lover’s prostate with every deep thrust, giving Sam all the pleasure he could. He wanted this to be perfect. He wanted this to be a moment neither of them would ever forget.

He didn’t care if the headboard struck the wall, or if his obscene pornographic moans were heard throughout the entire motel. Right now he didn’t care who knew that Sam was his, would always be his, maybe the possessive part of him even _wanted_ everyone to know.

“I’m gonna come, baby. I want you with me.” Dean whispered as his body tensed, his muscles clenching, his growls and moans of pleasure deepened as he prepared to release inside of his brother. Giving the younger man’s cock a few more tugs. Loving the way Sam clenched around him as he buried himself to the hilt inside of his brother. His cock pulsed, filling his brother’s tight passage with thick ropes of his seed. 

* * *

Legs locked around his brother, Sam raised himself up to meet every one of Dean's brutal thrusts, needing them, anticipating them, wanting them. He wanted his brother just like this, neither of them coherent, overtaken by uncontrollable need... desire. The sounds Dean made washed over him, enflaming him, making him moan back.

Dean's whispered order had Sam clenching his ass around Dean's cock, his lips parted and his breaths panted out as Dean touched him, stroked his fist up Sam's dick a few more times.... hard, and then Sam was with Dean. "Oh... God... Dean..." he did his best to keep his cry low as his body wound tight... and tighter... then broke, releasing hard, his cum coating Dean's hand and stomach.

"Dean..." he said almost weakly, his mind spinning as he searched for his brother's mouth and kissed him softly, still clenching around Dean's softening cock still deep inside him. He moved his hands up and down Dean's back and ass, touching him as possessively as his brother had touched him.

When they both stopped moving and Dean had collapsed on top of him, Sam buried his face in Dean's throat. "We weren't... too loud... were we?" Yeah, he knew they had been, and that he should be freaking out right now. Instead, he was thinking they could claim their neighbors were watching porn... or something.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but watch, rapt, as Sam came for him. His brother’s face a mask of ecstasy as he spilled all over his chest, stomach, and his hand wrapped around the younger man’s pulsing cock. Dean continued to stroke that beautiful cock, moaning into the younger man’s mouth as his brother’s inner muscles clenched around him so damned tight that he came again. So damned good… so damned perfect… When his brother had milked him dry, Dean collapsed heavily on top of the younger man. Panting where he rested against his brother’s chest, not giving a damn how messy they both were, Sam’s come now covering them both.

“Oh fuck, Sammy…” He whispered against his brother’s sweat slick skin, an almost purr vibrating in his chest the way Sam’s hands moved over his shoulders and back possessively. When his brother’s hands slid over his ass, Dean rolled his hips, letting Sam feel his cock still buried inside of him. “So good…”

Sam’s question made a laugh break free from him in spite of himself. Yeah, they were pretty damned loud, weren’t they? Did he give a damn? Not really. He knew he should be more worried about it, the possibility that their father had overheard them, but he was just fucking tired of worrying. He’d worried enough for the last several weeks to last him a fucking lifetime. Right now he just wanted to enjoy this, him and Sam together, without anything ruining it.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Dean finally replied, pushing himself up on his elbows to look down at his brother lovingly. Before a teasing grin broke out on his face. “We could always try again.”

* * *

When his brother laughed... a real laugh, Sam felt his heart lift. Smiling, he watched Dean closely, still holding him like his brother would slip through his fingers if he didn't. Lifting up slightly, he slide his mouth across Dean's and lay back. "You're such a tease," he gave Dean a look, and raised one hand up to stroke his face. "It's... over. The worrying, the hoping... the..." he nodded, unable to finish the sentence. "I just... I guess I keep thinking I'm gonna wake up, and it's all been just a dream, you know?"

Sliding his hand from Dean's face, to the back of his neck, he pulled him down for another heated kiss. His mouth was open as he fitted it against Dean's, and slid his tongue into his brother's mouth, kissing him like he hadn't seen him in forever. He took his time, gliding his tongue over Dean, stroking his pallet, then entwining their tongues as he moaned, then pulled away, needing to breathe. "It's always going to be like this between us, right... always."

It was really a rhetorical question. He was still processing, still trying to make himself believe. They'd been under stress for so long, the future unknown. His brother had tried to kill himself. Sam had lived with the fear of a repeat performance. And all the rest of it. His arms tightened around Dean just a fraction, then he let go. "Think we can take a quick shower... together?" He licked his lips, knew it was a risk, but thought they could put the chair in front of the door or something.

* * *

Dean grinned even more when Sam called him a tease. Though it faded somewhat when Sam went on. All a dream… yeah, Dean could definitely understand that. It was kind of hard to believe that it had turned out the way it did. Cassandra was dead. The rest of the werewolves, they’d hunt them down in time. The ‘cure’… well, Connal had warned him there would be side effects. Yeah it was going to take a lot of getting used to. But he’d take walking around on four paws and growing a tail for three nights a month to turning into a bloodthirsty monster that ripped out and ate people’s hearts.

When Sam pulled him back down into a kiss, Dean felt his worries melting away and he gave himself over to it completely. Giving a small sound of complaint when his brother finally let him up for air. Was it always going to be like this? If Dean had any say in the matter, hell yes.

“You’re such a girl.” Dean teased his brother rather than answering instead, grinning. Then Sam was mentioning a shower, together. Dean’s grin turned from amused to lustful as his eyes tracked the flicker of his brother’s tongue across his lips.

“Hell yes.” He replied, pushing himself off of the younger man and holding his hand out to his brother. 

* * *

Sam was about to protest the _girl_ comment when he saw how easily distracted Dean could get. All it took was a dart of his tongue. Good to know, he’d need this kinda information when dealing with his brother. Grinning, he gave Dean his hand and let him pull him up.

“Awww... fuck...” He gripped Dean’s shoulder for support for a second. He’d forgotten how rough they’d been, but was feeling it now. “I think... you need to wipe that wolfish grin off your face. Sometimes shower mean... you know, just getting clean,” he nodded, letting go and walking to the bathroom slightly ahead of Dean.

He turned the water on in the shower, then, without looking back, he grabbed his brother’s hand and dragged him inside. “I was kidding.” He suspected Dean was pouting at that, or mock pouting. In either case, he just wanted Dean’s mouth on him again, cause he knew that once they left the room, it would be back to pretending there was nothing like this between them.

Plastering himself against Dean, he kissed him, one hand reaching blindly for the soap and starting to wash his brother’s back. Nothing said he couldn’t kill two birds with one stone.

* * *

They’d stayed at the motel for the remaining two nights of the full moon.

He had received hugs from both Dad and Bobby that morning after the first night. Both older men obviously relieved to see him returned to normal, walking upright and with opposable thumbs again.

Neither John nor Bobby gave any indication that they’d heard anything out of the ordinary coming from the boy’s room that morning, and Dean and Sam certainly weren’t going to bring it up. If Bobby had looked at them a little too knowingly that morning, then Dean chose to ignore it and feign ignorance. Bobby seemed just fine with that option as well. As long as the older hunter kept his suspicions to himself and didn’t tell their father he suspected John’s sons were fucking, then Dean didn’t really care what the older man thought.

Dean had to admit, that first night knowing he was going to change into a four legged wolf and probably have little control over his actions he’d been nervous. Telling Sam that maybe they should chain him up, just in case, but his brother refused. Agreeing at least to keep the tranquilizer gun close at hand, but it wasn’t needed. Neither that night or the night that followed. In fact, the only incident they’d had was when Sam had let him out of the room one of the nights to do his ‘business’ outside, and the motel manager had informed his brother if his ‘dog’ took a dump that Sam was expected to clean it up.

He had laughed until his stomach hurt the next morning remembering that. He was remembering more and more what happened during the time he transformed.

Dean and Sam were in the Impala now heading back to California. Bobby and John had decided to stay in the area to hunt down the rest of the werewolves. Dean had wanted to stay and help the two older hunters, but their dad had insisted he go. Just in case any other hunters showed up looking for him. Bobby was already in the process of trying to see if any other hunters were gunning for him and to try to get them to cease fire if there were, but in the mean time it was a good idea to keep moving.

Dean had to admit, he wasn’t too thrilled about their destination, but he understood… kind of. Sam had really liked the girl, Jess, he’d been living with. His brother felt he owed her some kind of explanation rather than just dropping off the face of the earth. Plus, there were some things from the apartment that Sam wanted to get. Yeah, Dean had agreed to go, didn’t mean he had to like it.

Still, he tried to keep his jealous instincts on the down low, for Sam’s sake. He could tell this wasn’t easy for his brother. Dean couldn’t stop the slight frown that formed on his face when they pulled up outside Sam’s apartment on campus.

“Want me to go in with you?” Dean asked, as he glanced over at his brother in the passenger seat as he shifted the car into park. He already knew the answer, but thought he should ask anyway.

* * *

When they left dad and Bobby, Sam didn’t know what he was feeling. He’d announced that he was quitting school, pulling out, and would be a full time hunter like the rest of them. It was weird. Maybe he’d thought he’d see victory in his dad’s eyes, but he didn’t. He couldn’t read the man, still wanted a reason to be angry at him... maybe out of habit... but his dad hadn’t given him any, unless being impassive counted.

The trip hadn’t been bad. He and Dean had a lot more freedom now that they were alone, and it had been nice not to worry about who might hear, or walk in. They’d even had sex outside... and how Dean talked him into it, Sam didn’t even know.

Once they’d crossed the California state lines, he’d started to get nervous. Dean had grown quieter, though Sam was pretty sure that it was taking a lot for his brother to keep a lid on it. Instinctively, he knew that even though Dean understood the reason he was seeing Jess was to break up with her, he didn’t like it, would stop him if he didn’t control his werewolf emotions.

The car finally came to a stop in front of his apartment with Jess. All sorts of feeling swamped him. The hopes he’d had when he’d first arrived, the dreams of normality, and how much he’d missed his brother... how he’d known their two worlds might never mesh. Now he’d chosen to live in his brother’s world. The truth was... he’d never really belonged here either.

Dean’s question had him looking over at his brother. “No. I have to do this.” He let out a heavy sigh and reached for the door handle, his hand shaking slightly. “I’ll... I don’t know how long it will take, Dean.” He licked his lips, then just slid out of the passenger side and closed the door.

Crossing the street, he went up the stairs and into the building. He had the key, but he knocked. When Jess answered, she threw her arms around him. Instinctively, he held her, partly to hold her away from him. She must have felt he was a little stiff, because she let go and took a couple steps back.

“Hi Jess. You look... good,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“You live here,” she answered, her gaze locked with his. “Don’t you?”

A lump rose in his throat as he passed her and walked inside, past the book shelves they’d put together.

“Sam, where have you been. I know you said it would be hard to get reception, but...”

He turned to look at her again. “Jess, wait. I’m quitting school. Pulling out.”

“Why, what happened,” she asked, stepping towards him, worry reflected in her voice and the frown lines on her forehead. “Is your brother alright. You did find him, you said he was ill and...”

“Yeah, Dean’s fine.” Guilt washed over Sam. “I’m... I’m going with him. He needs me...”

“That family business you didn’t want to join,” she asked.

He nodded, “but its not like that now. I found where I belong.”

“I don’t get a say in this? Sam? We’re not going to talk about this, you’re just... What about us.”

He stared back at her, his eyes glistening. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? That’s it, that’s the explanation I get? You don’t even want to try? I mean I could finish school, still visit you. We could...”

“No. No Jess, we can’t.”

“You met someone?” Her chin rose, eyes gleaming with accusation now.

“It’s not that.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sam. I know you.”

“No you don’t. No you don’t Jess,” he’d had to hide a big part of his life from her. “I’m just... I’m gonna get a few things.”

She stayed rooted to the spot as Sam went to their room and got a few of his things, throwing them in a duffel bag. He found her in the same place near the door. “Jess, I’m sorry... I... I never meant for it to end.” He’d opened the door when she moved toward him.

“Take it.”

He looked at her face, and opened his hand.

She dropped a delicate ring with a tiny diamond stone into his palm.

“I don’t... you don’t have to...”

“Go Sam,” she said, her voice catching as she started to close the door.

“M’sorry... sorry Jess,” he mumbled, leaving quickly. Outside, he took a couple deep breaths, then headed down the stairs. The ring burned a hold in his palm. He let it fall onto the sidewalk, watched it bounce a few times, then roll into the grass.

Across the street was his future. No... his present, cause already Dean was out of the car and opening the trunk for him. Taking one more deep breath, he rushed across the street, and gave his brother a small smile as he put his bag away. He felt Dean searching his face, knew he was looking for signs of stress. “Let’s go. We got a long drive to San Diego, and I’d like to make it there while it’s still light. Got a date with this guy who’s kind of a pain in the ass, but so fucking hot... Anyway, we’re going to walk on the beach and he’ll... he’ll probably find a way to talk me into sex under the pier or something... he’s got this thing for sex in public places.” For a few seconds, he closed his hand over Dean’s, threading their fingers together, then pulled away.

He heard the trunk close, and they both got into the car at the same time. As he leaned back, he was thankful for Dean’s loud music, and after a while, a couple miles maybe, he started to sing with it. At first, Dean gave him and odd look, but then they were singing at the top of their voices and neither of them could hold a tune, but it was right... felt right. 


End file.
